


Under the Vegas Lights

by onlyastoryteller



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: Accidental Marriage, Drunken Shenanigans, Eventual Happy Ending, M/M, Romantic Comedy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-14
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2020-10-18 15:42:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 57,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20641619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onlyastoryteller/pseuds/onlyastoryteller
Summary: When Timmy wakes up in Vegas in a strange hotel room, hungover, with no memory of the night before, he is mortified. How is he going to get out of this one...especially once he realizes he doesn’t want to?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic has been brewing for a while. Once I was writing Isla Deseo, I knew this was the next rom-com trope I wanted to tackle. 
> 
> Thanks to is-it-a-vide0 for help with the title. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy it! 
> 
> 100% fiction. Of course.

_ Pain._

That was the first sensation Timmy felt as he swam clumsily towards consciousness. Thick, pounding pain in his head. 

Next came the foul taste in his cottony mouth, his tongue dry and furry and sticking to the inside of his cheek. 

He squeezed his eyes shut, determined not to open them and face the rest: the roiling in his stomach, stiffness in his joints, the feeling of being too hot and yet shivering all at once. 

Hangovers were the fucking worst. 

He prayed for sleep, to drift off again and let his body work out some of its issues on its own, but the pounding in his head and the sudden need to guzzle all the water in existence lest he burst into a pile of dust prevented that respite. 

With a whimper, he opened his eyes, hating the way they stubbornly stuck together. He blinked rapidly, then freed a hand from under the fluffy comforter to wipe them clear. 

Semi-darkness and shadow greeted him. He was relieved that, in his clearly inebriated state the night before, he had at least had the presence of mind to close the shade and block out most of the bright sun. And bright it was, from what was peeking around the edges of the heavy curtains. 

_ Wait...curtains, not shades? Big, heavy, insulated curtains. _

Timmy had a moment of extreme disorientation before he remembered. He wasn’t home. He was in...

_ Vegas. _

Right, he was in Vegas. Armie’s big splashy guys’ weekend, to celebrate his recent divorce and his birthday all at once. Steaks and bourbon and poker and late night comedy shows for three nights, with Timmy and Nick and Ash and Tyler. 

The night before — their second night in town — they had gone to Bazaar Meat for dinner before hitting the casino at the Venetian. He remembered dinner. Most of it. Armie had ordered them wild boar and carpaccio and sirloin and suckling pig, and had a lengthy, spirited conversation with the grillmaster, his eyes sparkling and his hands gesticulating wildly. They had all bought each other rounds of bourbon...so that was at least five. And maybe he remembered the Venetian, if he concentrated. Some of it. Then nothing. 

What time was it? From the sun he could see it was definitely morning, at least. 

Carefully, Timmy sat up a little at a time. Picked up his head, then wedged an elbow underneath his side, then pushed slowly until his head and shoulders were upright. The headache continued to pound, but not worse than it had been. 

Okay, he needed water and aspirin — a handful if he could find it — and to take a piss. And then maybe locate his phone in case the guys were already up and looking for him, just so he could say he was staying in bed a while longer. 

There was a half empty bottle of water sitting open on the nightstand. Timmy grabbed it and downed it, and immediately felt a shade better. Then he swung his legs over the side of the bed and winced. 

_ Ow. Fuck. What the hell. _

He froze at the complaint from what appeared to be his sore ass, a bolt of fear slicing through him. Fuck, what had he done?

In a moment he looked up at his surroundings and realized three things. 

One, he wasn’t in his room. The room was large, with a plush carpet, heavy-looking wood furniture, and traditional decor with curtains covering the windows at one end. Armie had booked them a swanky two story suite at the Mandalay Bay, and it was sleek and modern, with blinds instead of curtains. His bedroom was on the second floor, and didn’t look anything like this. None of the bedrooms in the suite did. 

Two, there were torn condom wrappers — more than one — on the bedside table next to the now empty water bottle. That, at least, was a relief. 

Three...something shifted behind him, let out a small grunt. Three, he wasn’t alone. 

_ Oh, fuck fuck fuck. _

So apparently he had let some guy take him back to his hotel room while wasted. Why hadn’t the guys stopped him? Why hadn’t _ Armie _ stopped him?

The thought made him grimace. Maybe Armie had tried, and Timmy was insistent, and he had finally let him go. He shook his head, then winced in pain. 

He had spent the first day and night in Vegas as he usually did in Armie’s company...wishing that things were different between them. Thinking about an earlier time when things _ were _ different, when he was allowed to reach out and run his hand through Armie’s hair, when Armie would hook a finger through a belt loop and yank him close, when they would spend intense stolen moments feasting on each other’s bodies. 

But that was before. Before Armie decided he needed to stop being an asshole and try to make things work with Elizabeth, before they decided it would be better for their careers and their friendship if they ended that element of their relationship before it was too late for one or both of them. 

And that had worked. They were best friends, weren’t they? They had moved past that episode in their lives, settled into these roles easily. If — every once in a while — Timmy wished that he could give into his urge to kiss Armie again, or lean against him, or sit in his lap...well, Timmy could live with that, as long as he still got to have Armie in his life. He _ had _ lived with that, for a couple of years now. 

So maybe, while drunk, Timmy had given in to these urges, and when he was rebuffed, he had sought out someone else. And Armie was relieved enough that Timmy wasn’t coming on to him anymore that he let it happen. 

Timmy shut his eyes in mortification. 

He took a deep breath. He didn’t _ know _ that any of that had happened. His therapist was always cautioning him against fabricating the worst case scenario and letting himself react to it emotionally when he didn’t know if it had or would actually come to pass. 

What he should do is get himself together and get back to the Mandalay Bay. Take whatever ribbing he was sure to get, and play dumb...which would be easy since he _ couldn’t fucking remember _ the night before. 

He eased off of the bed and tiptoed — yep, naked — around to the bathroom. On the way, he squinted at the other lump underneath the blankets. He couldn’t see anything to help him identify the guy or remember who he was, so he continued into the bathroom and shut the door gently behind him. 

In the bathroom, he relieved himself and then splashed water on his face. There was a basket of tiny toiletries on the counter, and he found a toothbrush, toothpaste, and mouthwash inside, which he made liberal use of. There was also — thank god — a bottle of ibuprofen, and he downed three with a bottle of complimentary water. 

At least now he knew where he was, since the complimentary toiletries were emblazoned with the name of the hotel. He was still at the Venetian. Okay, that wasn’t too bad. It was a nice hotel, which for some reason made him feel slightly better. 

He wrapped a towel around his waist and opened the bathroom door. 

Sitting up in bed, blinking at him in confusion, was Armie. 

The relief that coursed through Timmy made his knees buckle, and he leaned on the doorknob to keep from sinking to the floor. That relief was immediately replaced by anxiety. 

Shit, he had slept with _ Armie_. Was that better, or worse than some random guy?

_ And fuck, he had finally gotten to sleep with Armie again, and couldn’t even remember? _Fate was fucking cruel. 

Meanwhile, on the bed, Armie’s face relaxed into a smile. 

“Thank god,” he said, his voice rough with hangover. He laughed, and then winced and slapped a hand to his forehead. “Shit. I am so hungover. What the fuck happened?”

“I…” Timmy was still gripping the doorknob, and he took comfort in the smooth, solid surface. “I can’t remember. But I think we…”

“Yeah, I figured that out already,” Armie said. “And apparently you topped.”

Timmy’s mouth fell open. He had _ topped _ and didn’t remember? That was even _ worse_. 

“Well, so did you,” he said dryly. “Apparently we both took a turn.”

Armie fell back against the mattress with a groan. 

Timmy turned back into the bathroom and grabbed the bottle of ibuprofen and another water, then returned to the bed. He tried not to think about Armie’s groan in reaction to realizing that they had slept together again. If he thought about it, the light nausea rolling around in his stomach would turn into a much bigger problem. 

“Here,” he said. “Drink, take these.”

Armie took the items from Timmy, their hands brushing together. Armie’s fingers were warm and solid. Nothing like Timmy’s, which were chilled and shaking. 

“Thanks,” Armie said. He sat up again, took a few pills, and chugged the water. Then he sighed and relaxed once more, fluffing up the pillow before resting his head on it and closing his eyes. 

“Okay,” he murmured. “Get back over here, will you?”

Timmy hesitated. “Over where?”

Armie opened his eyes. “Over here. I don’t remember a thing from last night, but since we’re already here...ice officially broken, right? Before we have the inevitable _ this was a mistake, it can’t happen again, your friendship means the world to me _ talk, can we at least enjoy it a little first?” He scooted backwards and held up the comforter in invitation. 

Timmy found himself propelled forward, towards Armie, without consciously deciding to move. He slid under the comforter and was immediately enveloped in a warm body that he knew as well as his own. He let out a long sigh and felt the tension sliding out of him by the second. 

“Mmmm,” Armie hummed into Timmy’s hair. “Much better.”

Timmy felt his heart soar. To be wrapped in this man’s arms again was one of those things he needed to survive, like breathing. He had had to be happy with occasional hugs and wrestling over the past couple of years, but this...this skin to skin contact was what he really never stopped craving. 

Armie’s hands drifted down his back and up again, and he shivered. On their way back down, they moved lower and stalled on the edge of the towel that was still wrapped around Timmy’s waist. 

“You forgot something,” Armie murmured. He tugged at the towel gently. 

His pulse beginning to race, Timmy lifted his hips to allow Armie to pull the towel free. It landed on the ground beside the bed with a soft _ whumpf_, and then they shifted into contact. 

Two soft moans were breathed into the air. 

“Timmy,” Armie whispered. “If you don’t want this, I understand —“

“Shut up and kiss me,” Timmy said. Maybe he whined it. Who could say?

Armie tucked a knuckle under Timmy’s chin and tipped his head up. “Okay, if you insist,” he said. 

Their lips met, and this time Timmy _ did _ whimper. It had been so long, and yet he hadn’t forgotten what this was like. Not at all. 

The thing that struck him, as his lips parted in an invitation that Armie accepted, was how familiar and right it still felt, even after all this time. He licked into Armie’s mouth with a hum of satisfaction, smiled against Armie’s lips as he felt strong hands sliding up his jaw to frame his face. 

Armie pushed him onto his back and swept a hand down his chest, skimming over his nipples and drawing a gasp from Timmy along the way. Then Armie’s hand brushed at the head of his very interested cock, and he arched up in response. 

With one last press of his lips, Armie pulled back and grinned down at Timmy. 

“I’d like to congratulate shit-faced me for coming on to shit-faced you,” he said. “He’s a little difficult sometimes but he has good ideas.”

“How do you know it wasn’t shit-faced me who had the idea?” Timmy said. “He’s a blast. He’s always coming up with the good shit.”

“True,” Armie said. “You’re right. You probably put the hard press on me and wouldn’t take no for an answer. I was powerless to resist your advances.”

“Obviously,” Timmy giggled. Armie’s eyes softened, and he brought his hand up to brush along Timmy’s cheek. 

Timmy turned his head and kissed Armie’s palm, then nuzzled into his hand. His nose brushed against Armie’s knuckles, and then…

He stopped, and pulled Armie’s hand away from his face. There, on the ring finger of Armie’s left hand, was a small circle of metal. It looked like...a wedding ring. But it wasn’t _ Armie’s _ wedding ring, because he hadn’t worn that in over a year. 

“Armie?” Timmy asked, 

“Yeah?” Armie’s voice was thick in his throat, and he gazed down at Timmy, his eyes dark and his pupils blown wide. 

“What is this?” He took Armie’s hand and held it up, pointing to the ring. 

Armie focused on it and frowned. “I don’t...woah.”

He grabbed Timmy’s left hand and pulled it towards his face, peering at it.

“Uh...you have one too,” Armie managed. 

Timmy stared at his own hand, at the band circling an important finger. His gaze flicked to Armie and their eyes locked. He was willing to bet his own face mirrored the shocked and apprehensive expression that was on Armie’s. 

_Oh, fuck._


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armie raised his voice. “Jesus Christ, Timmy, stop trying to pretend it isn't what it is. We fucked up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More Vegas shenanigans. These two have definitely gotten themselves into a situation. 
> 
> 100% fiction. Enjoy!

_ Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck oh — _

Armie grabbed Tim’s hand — the one without the ring — and gave it a sharp squeeze. “Stop,” he said. “Jesus. Take a breath.”

Timmy closed his mouth with a snap. He must have been saying the _ oh fucks _ out loud and not in his head. Shit, how embarrassing. 

But that was a minor problem. The bigger problem was that he and Armie were wearing matching rings, and were in _ Las Vegas_, which meant...which meant…

“So. I guess...somehow we got married last night?” Armie was trying to smile, one side of his mouth straining upward, but his eyes told a different story. The blue was fractured, and he looked as panicked as Timmy was starting to feel. 

As one, they suddenly rolled apart and off opposite ends of the bed. Timmy concentrated on breathing, feeling the tightening in his chest that was a clear precursor to a panic attack. That was the last thing he wanted, to become a useless mess when they needed to figure out what to do. 

He focused on the feel of the soft carpet between his toes, the light brush of cool air from the vent over his head, the way his nails were digging into his palm. He counted to four, slowly, in between breaths. 

It worked. Temporarily. 

“Okay,” Armie was saying, when he tuned back in. “So, how do we, uh...deal with this?”

When Timmy raised his gaze, Armie was looking at him with what looked like a sincere question. 

“I don’t know.” Timmy said. “I’ve never gotten married in Vegas before.”

“Neither have I.”

“But you’ve at least been _ married_. You just got a divorce. How did you do it?” Timmy asked. 

A frown replaced the concern on Armie’s face. He dropped his eyes to the floor, shook his head. “That’s not the same thing. That was like, a complicated fucking _ mess _ to untangle. It took years. But here...they must have some kind of regret insurance for a place like this. Something easy. Like, you get married and realize it was dumb and undo it.” Armie raked a hand through his hair. “Shit. My lawyer is gonna _ kill _ me.”

Timmy thought about his own team, and what their reaction would be. He grimaced. So much work went into downplaying his friendship with Armie, especially over the past year during the divorce proceedings. Optics. Everything was about fucking _ optics _ these days. If they found out that he had married Armie, even accidentally, they would flip. He would never be allowed to do anything again.

“They’ll just have to deal with it, that’s all.” he found himself muttering, more to himself than to anyone else.

“All right so...what do we do now?” Armie asked. 

“Why do you keep asking me? I don’t even know where to start.” Timmy tried to concentrate. There had been something in the back of his mind just then, thinking about his publicist. Something about calling her? Or...sending her something…no. It was gone. 

“Since this is your fault—“

“My fault?” Timmy’s gaze snapped to Armie. He had folded his arms across his chest and was smirking at Timmy. He was also still naked, and Timmy was not going to let himself get distracted by that. 

Nope, not at all. _ Eyes up, Chalamet. _

“You said yourself that shitfaced you always comes up with the good shit,” Armie said. 

Timmy’s mouth dropped open. “The _ good _ shit, not..not…”

“Not getting hitched while blackout drunk in Vegas?”

Armie’s snarky grin set something off in Timmy. He knew Armie was just trying to have a little fun with him, trying to make light of the situation, distract them from the stress. But on the other hand, his stance was rigid, and underneath his teasing smirk was real tension. Timmy felt a burst of annoyance. Armie always fucking did this, made a joke out of things that weren’t jokes. 

“Stop,” Timmy said. “This isn’t funny.”

“Never said it was.” _ Still, the smirk. Always, that fucking smirk. _

“Did you even notice we’re not in our fucking hotel?” Timmy snapped. He immediately regretted it, but his nerves were crackling and needed an outlet.

Armie blinked and looked around. Realization and then confusion settled on his features. “Where the hell are we?” he asked. 

“The Venetian.”

“Oh.” 

Armie looked so bewildered, Timmy lost his annoyance as suddenly as it came on. They were in this together, they had to figure it out together. 

“Okay, let’s not panic,” he began. “We don’t know what happened. Maybe we didn’t actually, you know, get married.”

“No? Then why are we wearing matching rings?” Armie held up his left hand and wiggles his fingers. “Cool new fashion accessory?”

Timmy shrugged one shoulder, a short, jerky movement that increased the pounding in his head. “Maybe we got them as a joke. Or...thought if we pretended to be married we’d get free stuff.”

“What free stuff?” Armie sounded skeptical, and Timmy didn’t blame him. 

“Like...this suite?” he gestured around them. “Could explain why we’re here and not at the Mandalay.”

It sounded thin even to his ears. He knew he was grasping. 

Armie snorted, and now _ he _ was the one sounding annoyed. Timmy felt like they were pendulums, swinging in opposite directions. “Timmy, the Venetian is not giving away free suites just because you tell them you’re fucking _ married_.”

Timmy threw up his hands. “Look, I don’t know—“

Armie raised his voice. “Jesus Christ, Timmy, stop trying to pretend it isn't what it is. We fucked _ up_.”

It was said without animosity or anger, and yet, the frustration behind it was clear. They had gotten married, and it was clear neither of them _ wanted _ to be married, and they were practically yelling at each other because of it. 

Timmy hated it when they yelled at each other. 

Nausea bubbled up inside him without warning. His stomach churned and he began to gag. He turned and ran for the toilet, crashing onto his knees just in time to heave the contents of his stomach into the porcelain bowl. 

A warm hand rested lightly on his back, between his shoulder blades. 

“Okay,” Armie said soothingly. “It’s fine. Just let it out.”

Timmy continued to heave, eyes watering and lungs clogging. Armie rubbed a small circle on his back until the first wave passed. He breathed noisily into the toilet, his breath echoing in the bowl. Armie’s hand disappeared from his back. 

“Do you want me to go or stay?” he asked softly. 

Timmy reached blindly behind him, grabbing until he had a firm grip on Armie’s wrist. He pulled, and Armie folded himself into a cross-legged position on the tile. The hand returned to his back, and Timmy sighed, feeling the panic subsiding. He continued to clutch Armie’s wrist until his throat cleared and his stomach felt calm. 

“I’m sorry I yelled,” Armie said. 

Timmy cleared his throat and spoke into the toilet. “You didn’t.”

“I sort of did,” Armie said. “It felt like I did. I didn’t mean to. I’m just…”

Timmy sat back on his heels. He closed the lid of the toilet. 

“Frustrated?” 

“Scared,” Armie said. He reached a long arm out to the piles of towels under the sink and handed a facecloth to Timmy. “I just got one divorce. I didn’t think I’d be getting another one so fast. And not...not from _ you_.” He laughed softly, shaking his head. “We’ve definitely stepped in it.”

“Yeah.”

“Feeling better?” Armie asked. Timmy nodded, and Armie got to his feet. He flushed the toilet and held out his hand. Timmy took it and let Armie pull him to his feet. His legs shook, but he stayed upright. “Hangovers suck,” Armie said gently. 

Timmy was grateful that Armie chose to focus on the hangover as the source of the distress and not the panic, even though he was undoubtedly aware of both. 

Armie grabbed the last bottle of water from next to the toiletries and passed it to Timmy. “Here. Drink this. First things first, I feel like shit, and want to shower it off. Then we should try to figure out what happened. Unless you want to shower first.”

Timmy spat a mouthful of water into the sink and then drank half the bottle down. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. When the ring grazed his lips, he flinched. 

“I think I want to lie down for a minute,” he said. “You shower, and then when we both feel better we can…”

“Figure out our next steps?”

“Right.”

Armie reached over and ruffled Timmy’s hair. “Sounds good. Don’t...don’t worry, okay? Worst case scenario we have to untangle this and it’ll be a funny story we tell at parties.”

God, people were going to _ laugh _ at them, Timmy realized. They joked about their friendship all the time. Friends, family, the fans...it was constant, which is why they had to be subtle about even being friends. And here they went and did something big and flashy and—

“Here,” Armie said. He grabbed a plush white robe off a hook next to the door and draped it over Tim’s shoulders, giving them a quick squeeze of reassurance. “I promise it’ll be fine. And no one has to know if you don’t want. We’ll keep it to ourselves.”

Timmy nodded and pulled the robe the rest of the way on. “I know. Go, shower.”

He exited the bathroom, closing the door behind him, and then leaned against it. His head was still pounding, he was still feeling cold, and now his muscles were beginning to ache. This was a nightmare.

With a groan, he crawled back into bed. He hadn’t been lying when he told Armie that he wanted to lie down for a minute. Longer than a minute. He wanted to go to sleep and wake up in a world where he and Armie hadn’t gotten drunk-married last night.

Or maybe wake up in a world where they did, he could remember it, and they both _ wanted _ it.

Nope. Best not to even think about that, because it was never going to happen.

Timmy closed his eyes and rested his palms on his stomach. He tried to relax by focusing on taking slow, deep breaths. After a few minutes, he sighed and opened his eyes. 

He didn’t really feel better, and he thought that was probably because nothing was resolved. In fact, he had a ton of questions that needed answering, and they weren’t going to get answered while he was lying around. 

He pushed himself up and looked around the room. Maybe he could be useful while Armie showered. He could find their clothes, and his phone, and see if there were any messages from the guys. 

Or photos. Maybe there were photos of the night before that would jog his memory. With a determined grunt, he stood and began prowling the room. 

He found his pants and shirt in a heap by the door, and blushed, thinking that probably meant he had taken them off — or had them taken off — as soon as he walked in. Armie’s clothes were a few feet away, between the door and the bed. He collected them and folded them carefully and set them aside. 

On the floor at the foot of the bed was a strange item: a frilly white garter. Timmy dangled it from one finger and stared at it. Had...had one of them _ worn _ this the night before? He’d remember that. Wouldn’t he? Experimentally, he slid it up one calf and over his knee. Seeing it there made him feel funny — excited, kind of — but didn’t make him remember. He took it off quickly and threw it on the bed. 

When he found an identical one in the corner he froze. Two? Had _ Armie _worn one too? Timmy tried to imagine it stretched around Armie’s thigh, the white satin pulled taut and contrasting with his tanned skin. No. Armie wouldn’t wear this. Unless…

He had a sudden flash of a bundle of white wrapped around Armie’s cock and gasped. 

Was that a memory, or just wishful thinking?

Timmy tossed the second garter on the bed with the first. 

His wallet and his key to the suite at the Mandalay were in his pants pockets, along with some kind of large gold plastic token. He squinted at it, then turned on the bedside lamp and held it under the light, trying to make out the imprint. There was a classic masque, like the kind you’d wear to a masquerade ball, and the word “Luck” on one side. The other side had a different masque and the word “Fate.” Timmy set it on the bedside table, frustrated by the mystery clue. 

There wasn’t much else to find in the room. A half-eaten plate of fruit and cheese — the fruit droopy and slimey in its own juices, the cheese developing a sour rind — sat beside two champagne glasses and an ice bucket. The glasses were engraved “Husband” and “Husband” which made Timmy smile for a second before he set them aside. 

The ice bucket held an upturned bottle of champagne — expensive champagne, Timmy noted — and melted ice. He looked a little closer. 

“Fuck,” he said, then reached into the still-chilled water to pull out his dripping, water-logged phone. 

He stared at it, wondering how the hell he’d managed to put his phone in the ice bucket. Why had he done that? Was it just because he was out of it and not thinking? Had there been some drunken logic to it?

With a sigh, he wiped it off as best he could on his robe. Best not to try to turn it on until he could dry it out. What worked for that, rice? Would the hotel maybe give him a bag of rice to put it in?

The shower had turned off a few minutes earlier, and the door opened. Armie was wearing the other robe and drying his hair with a towel. 

“So much better,” he said. “That shower is amazing, T. Give it a try. It’ll make you feel human again—“ he focused on Timmy and frowned. “What’s the matter now?”

Timmy shook his head. “Nothing. I found my phone. It was in the ice bucket and is soaked.”

“Shit, that sucks,” Armie said. “You find mine?”

“Nope. But your clothes are on the bed. I didn’t go through your pockets.”

Armie smiled and stepped into the room. “You could have,” he said. “What’s mine is yours, right?”

Timmy rolled his eyes. “Well, while you were in the shower I played detective but didn’t get very far. My phone is toast for now, our clothes were...probably discarded quickly. We’ve picked up engraved champagne glasses, though I don’t know if they’re actually ours. And there’s a weird token on the table there. See if you can remember anything, I’m gonna shower.” He decided not to mention the garters, let Armie find them and puzzle it out. 

He headed for the bathroom and, as he brushed past, Armie snagged his hand.

“What—” Timmy had time to ask before Armie tugged him close and kissed him.

It was a gentle kiss, lips only, sliding together with initial hesitancy and then a quiet confidence. Timmy felt himself yielding to it, his body moving into Armie’s without his consent. He couldn’t help it, any more than he could help breathing.

After a minute, Armie stepped back, squeezed his hand, and released him. Timmy stared up at him, feeling the fog of arousal and… something else enveloping him.

“What was that for?” he managed.

Armie moved away, shrugging one shoulder. “You looked stressed. I thought it might help distract you.”

Timmy stumbled into the bathroom and closed the door behind him. On autopilot, he turned on the shower, discarded the robe, and stepped under the stream. He just barely managed to remember not to bang his head against the tile.

Armie kissing him had always left him breathless, he didn’t know why he thought it would be any different after all this time. The trouble was, if he had regretted not remembering the night before earlier, now he _ really _ regretted it. Why, he wondered, had they noticed the rings _ before _ they had a chance to mess around this morning? The way things were...the chance of getting to do that again was growing smaller by the second. 

He put it out of his mind and focused on getting clean, closing his eyes and breathing in the steam and hoping that he could keep it together long enough to get out of this mess, get home, and hide for a month. 

When he stepped out of the bathroom, he had to admit he was feeling better, both physically and mentally. This would be fine. They would be fine. It would eventually be just a funny story, like Armie had said. 

He found Armie fully dressed, sitting on the bed, talking on the hotel room phone, and frowning. 

Timmy quickly put his clothes on and returned both robes to the bathroom. He sat on the opposite side of the bed. Armie glanced at him and rolled his eyes. 

“Yeah, thanks,” he said. “I appreciate it.”

“What was that about?” Timmy asked, as Armie hung up the phone. 

“Want the good news or the bad news?” Armie asked. 

“Uh...I guess the good news?”

Armie sighed “I figured out which wedding service in town married us.”

Timmy’s stomach flipped. Until that second, he had been hoping that maybe this was a joke, that he hadn’t actually married his best friend and secret object of his affection while so drunk he couldn’t remember doing it.

“How...how did you figure it out?” he asked. 

“I called my credit card company. They were a little difficult but ultimately gave me a list of charges from last night.” Armie shifted and stretched out on the bed, stretching out his long legs and propping his head on his hand. “Turns out we used a service called Wedding Wonderland.”

“What’s Wedding Wonderland?” Timmy asked. 

“No idea. We’ll have to find a computer, look it up. I figure we give them a call, see what records they have. Maybe they’ve got video or something. And paperwork. If we’re going to undo this, we’re going to need the paperwork that we used to do it in the first place.” Armie ran a hand through his hair. 

“What’s the bad news? That it’s true, we really got married?” Timmy stared down at his hands, twisting his fingers together. 

“Actually,” Armie said, “the bad news is that my phone is missing. I can’t find it anywhere.”

Timmy’s eyes drifted across the room, seeking out spots they might not have looked. The mystery token on the bedside table caught his eye. He had left it “Luck” side up, but Armie must have picked it up and played with it, because the word “Fate” was now staring back at him. 

He felt a chill skitter down his spine. Armie’s phone was missing, Timmy’s was useless. It was like the universe didn’t _ want _ them to know what had happened the night before. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Timmy dragged a hand through his still wet hair. “Well...okay. Your phone is missing, mine is unusable. So what now?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m going to let this chapter speak for itself. 
> 
> 100% fiction and stuff, of course. But we can dream.

Timmy gazed around the room, taking in the tiny refrigerator, the wardrobe, the table with the champagne bucket and glasses, the sofa...he had looked through all of it. 

“I looked all over—“ he began. 

“Me too. My phone is definitely not in this room.” Armie shrugged. “I’m hoping I lost it somewhere in the hotel, maybe they picked it up and it’s in the lost and found. Or something.”

Timmy dragged a hand through his still wet hair. “Well...okay. Your phone is missing, mine is unusable. So what now?”

“Now…I’m starving.” Armie patted his stomach, and Timmy found himself staring at the way his shirt was slightly open below the bottom button, displaying a tiny peek of belly. He wanted to lick it, bite it, ghost his lips over Armie’s skin and see if he tasted the way Timmy remembered. 

“Hey...T?” Armie snapped his fingers and waved his hand in front of Timmy’s face. 

Timmy zoned back in and blinked. _ Shit_, all it took was one little sample of what he had been missing and he had lost the tight control he had maintained for the past couple of years. He needed to shove that back into its box and seal it back up. 

“Sorry,” he said, willing himself not to blush at having been caught thinking about Armie like that. 

“Where did you go?”

He shook his head. “Nowhere. Headache. Hard to focus.”

Armie smiled in sympathy. “Let’s get us both some coffee and greasy food. It’ll help. Then we can stop by the front desk, check out, ask about my phone. We can try to get in touch with Wedding Wonderland. And maybe we should retrace our steps. Might make us remember something.” He paused. “Or just go back to the Mandalay, find the guys. They’re either wondering where we are or they can help.”

Timmy thought of Nick and Ash and Tyler. He imagined them waking up and freaking out when they couldn’t get in touch with Armie. Or him. Unless they had been present for the wedding, in which case...

The last time he remembered seeing them — though it was fuzzy — was in the poker room the night before. They had all been at dinner, then got in an Uber to take them back to the strip. Armie had wanted to start at the Venetian and play their way back to the Mandalay, a two and a half mile journey through a dozen casinos. Timmy had been skeptical they’d actually do that, but everyone else seemed game to try. 

He had some flickers of memory of arriving at the Venetian. Of Nick teasing him about...something, his movie star white teeth flashing under the lights. He remembered Armie bankrolling the first buy-in despite everyone’s protests. He remembered thinking he was too drunk for poker. 

And then...nothing. 

Armie rolled to his feet, breaking into Timmy’s thoughts once more. “Come on,” he said. “Let me buy you breakfast.”

Timmy stood, gathering up his wallet and currently-useless phone as well as the odd token, which he slipped in his pocket. He followed Armie to the door, and then stopped in his tracks.

“Wait…” he said, touching his left wrist with the fingertips of his right hand. “My bracelet.”

Armie turned from where he had been picking up a bag — one of those hotel laundry bags which looked like it contained a box, the corners stretching the plastic — and frowned. 

“What bracelet?” he asked. 

Timmy scanned the room again. “I was wearing a bracelet last night, and now I don’t have it.” 

He felt his pulse speed up. He couldn’t lose that bracelet — not that particular one. Armie had bought it for him on a whim one day, back when they were...messing around. It wasn’t fancy, just a little series of silver links with a plain silver disk dangling from it. He had admired it in a pop shop window as they strolled through the Grove one afternoon, the trip an attempt by Armie to distract him from the trouble he was having while filming _ Beautiful Boy_. 

Armie had seen him pause and touch the window, and had immediately grabbed his hand and dragged him inside to buy it. The girl at the counter had explained that the disc was engravable, but they didn’t do engraving there. Timmy had considered getting it engraved at some point — with the date, or something — but couldn’t decide what. And then, when Armie had sat him down after the promo tour and explained that he needed to focus on his marriage, and that they couldn’t sleep together anymore, he hadn’t been able to wear it for a long time anyway. 

This weekend, he had finally felt like he could, like he wanted to. And now it was missing. 

He swallowed hard, and then turned back to Armie, gave him a pleading look. “I have to...can we search for it? Just for a minute?”

“Of course,” Armie said, setting down the bag. “You start in the bathroom. Look in the trash too, in case it fell in there. I’ll start out here.”

“It’s silver, with—“

“I know what it was, I remember,” Armie said, waving him toward the bathroom. 

They combed the room, checking every nook and cranny where a tiny silver bracelet may have landed. They couldn’t find it. After a while, Timmy shook his head. 

“It’s okay,” he said, feeling the pit in his stomach get larger. “I guess it’s...gone.”

“Maybe it’s with my phone, they’re off having a party,” Armie said lightly. 

Timmy closed his eyes, and suddenly he was in Armie’s arms, enveloped in warmth. 

“Hey, you know...don’t stress about it. I can get you a new one.” Armie’s voice rumbled in his chest, and Timmy let himself relax into Armie’s solid presence. 

“It’s dumb,” Timmy said, his voice muffled in Armie’s shirt. “It’s just a bracelet.”

The arms tightened around him. “Yeah, that’s true. Let’s go get breakfast, okay? Maybe it’ll turn up still.”

Armie released him and stepped back, and he tried to put things in perspective. It _ was _ just a bracelet. He had much bigger things to worry about at the moment. 

They left the room, finally, and within fifteen minutes were sipping blessedly rich coffee at a small table in a restaurant that planned to charge them eighteen dollars apiece for a couple of eggs, bacon, and home fries. 

Timmy closed his eyes and sighed into his cup, feeling the caffeine moving through his bloodstream. That and the ibuprofen he had taken seemed to be winning the battle against his headache.

“Feeling better?” Armie asked. 

“Mmmhmm,” Timmy said, his eyes still closed. “Head is a little better.”

Fingers scratched into his hair, and he leaned into it, enjoying the shivers that traveled down his neck at the sensation. When he opened his eyes, Armie drew his hand back. 

“Thanks,” Timmy said. “That helped too.”

“It always did,” Armie said with a soft smile. “God, remember the shitty hangovers we used to get—“

“—in Crema? Yeah. I blame the wine,” Timmy finished. 

“Don’t blame the wine, the wine was just fulfilling its purpose,” Armie said. 

Timmy searched for what to say next, trying to read the look on Armie’s face, a mix between nostalgia and...something else. They were saved from having to find the path out of that conversation, however, when the waiter brought their plates. They dug in and ate in silence for a time, the greasy breakfast helping even more than the coffee had. After polishing off his eggs and half of his home fries, Armie leaned back in his chair. 

“So...let’s recap,” he said. “How much _ do _you remember from last night?”

Timmy shook his head. “Not much after dinner,” he admitted. “I remember coming here, and I know we were going to play poker, but the rest…what about you?”

“Same, mostly. I do remember poker, and I remember you decided you wanted to stop after a few hands, and that I left the others still playing to keep you company.” Armie frowned and stared at a point over Timmy’s head, as if he was searching for something. “I might remember...a club. Maybe. But it’s fuzzy.”

“Well that’s something,” Timmy said, perking up. “Could it be the club here? You might have lost your phone there. Maybe retracing our steps _ would _ help.”

“Possible.” Armie set down his fork and then stretched out the fingers of his left hand, so that his ring glinted in the light. “I wonder where these came from,” he murmured. 

Timmy examined his own ring, tapping it with his nail before pulling it off and examining it. “You think they’re, like, real? What do you think they’re made out of?”

Armie set his fork down and pulled his ring off. Timmy watched as he let it roll around in his palm. Anxiety crawled up from his stomach, though he wasn’t sure why. 

“Looks real, like maybe tungsten actually. Too dark for platinum. Heavy,” Armie said. “Maybe we bought them here somewhere. We could go check the shops, see if they have a record.”

He slipped the ring back on and picked up his fork again. Feeling the unexpected tension dissipate as quickly as it had arisen, Timmy replaced his ring as well and turned his attention to finishing his own breakfast. 

Armie started snickering. Timmy looked up at him, unable to help the answering smile as Armie’s shoulders shook and he flung his head back and laughed out loud. 

“What’s the matter with you?” Timmy asked, kicking Armie’s ankle under the table. 

It took Armie a second to catch his breath. “It’s just...Timmy, what the fuck did we _ do_? Jesus Christ, only with _ you _ would something like this happen. How did we get from eating meat and playing poker to...to buying wedding rings and engraved glasses and...and…”

“And fucking like rabbits while wearing white frilly garters?” Timmy started laughing too. 

“You saw those, too? Well.” Armie shrugged. “The fucking like rabbits part doesn’t actually surprise me.”

Timmy felt the flush crawl up his neck. “It doesn’t?”

Armie rolled his eyes and nudged Timmy’s foot. “Come on, T. We’ve been like a ticking time bomb for...well, a long time.”

The breath exploded from Timmy in a whoosh, and he noticed that Armie had left his foot against Timmy’s under the table, a gentle pressure that sparked a flood of warmth in his gut. 

“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, that’s true.”

“I just wish I fucking remembered it,” Armie muttered. Then he frowned, looking like he wanted to say something else. Timmy waited. 

Armie licked his lips. “I think maybe...maybe we should clear the air. About what happened last night. I know I was sort of pushing, when we first woke up, and then by kissing you before your shower. I was thinking about it, and if you feel like I took advantage of you last night, or this morning, I wanted to apologize. Time bomb or not, it shouldn’t have happened, not when we were both so clearly wasted and couldn’t talk about it.”

His stomach sinking, Timmy shook his head quickly. “I don’t feel like that,” he said. “I don’t think you did anything I didn’t want you to do.”

“You don’t?” Armie asked. His blue eyes were boring into Timmy, as if searching for a lie. 

“No,” he said, as firmly as he could. “Do...you? Feel like I took advantage of you?”

“Of course not,” Armie said. “My only regret is that I don’t _ remember _it.” He sighed, and rubbed his hand across his face before speaking again. “We’re going to be fine, right? You and I? Like, this isn’t going to fuck everything up?”

“We won’t let it,” Timmy said firmly. He meant it, because he didn’t think he’d be able to handle it if it did. Armie nudged his foot against Timmy’s again, looking relieved. 

“Anyway, you done?” he asked, gesturing at Timmy’s mostly empty plate. “Let’s start at the poker room and then find the club.”

The poker room wasn’t any help. Seeing it, Timmy definitely remembered having been there. And after what Armie had said, he did kind of remember getting frustrated and deciding he was too drunk to concentrate. And maybe, if he squinted, he remembered Armie catching up to him as he left, grabbing his arm. 

Armie asked about a missing phone, but it wasn’t there. 

Next, they went upstairs to the nightclub. It was closed and dark. They stood, looking up at the neon sign. 

“What do you think?” Armie asked. “Does this seem familiar?”

Timmy closed his eyes. The visual of the club entrance wasn’t jogging his memory specifically, but...he opened his eyes and looked over his shoulder at the escalator they had just used. He had a flash of Armie crowding him on it, standing only one step down and pressing into him from behind, saying something in his ear, one hand on Timmy’s hip. 

“Actually, maybe it does. I think I remember coming up that escalator with you.” He jerked his chin in its direction. 

“Maybe,” Armie said. “I remember...dancing.”

Timmy grinned at him. “Aw, man. You _ danced _ and I don’t remember? So unfair.”

Armie rolled his eyes. “Well, we can't get in here. We could come back tonight, see if that helps. For now, let’s go to the front desk, ask about my phone and check out. Then maybe we can look through the shops, see if we got these rings somewhere here.”

“Hey, what’s in the bag?” Timmy asked, waving a hand at the laundry bag Armie was carrying, as they made their way back downstairs to reception. 

“The rest of the stuff,” Armie said. “I found the box the champagne glasses came in, and...the garters.”

“You took the garters?” Timmy couldn’t help a giggle. “What for?”

“I don’t know. Just...because they’re funny, I guess.” Armie smirked. “We can make a little memorial to our drunken shenanigans.”

The front desk was busy, but after a short wait, they were talking to a clerk. She checked them out and then sent them over to the concierge to ask about Armie’s phone and to “pick up their package.”

“Package?” Timmy asked out loud, as they crossed the lobby to the concierge desks. 

“Who knows,” Armie said. “Maybe we ordered wedding photos. Very little will surprise me at this point.”

A young man with a wide smile gestured for them to sit on the ornate sofa. He took their names, listened to Armie’s questions about a missing phone, the lost bracelet, and a supposed package, and left. He returned five minutes later with an even wider smile. 

“Congratulations, gentlemen,” he said. “You didn’t say you had spent your wedding night with us. I hope it was everything you wanted it to be.”

Timmy glanced at Armie. 

“It was...great,” Armie said.

“Wonderful. Here’s your package, from Wedding Wonderland. Take a look, make sure it’s what you were expecting, and I’ll go check the lost and found for your phone and the bracelet.”

As he walked away, Armie pulled the tab to open the cardboard envelope. Timmy watched anxiously as he slid the contents out. It was a set of paperwork, including a set of instructions on receiving the rest of their package — apparently they were supposed to go to a website to select photos for framing that would be delivered later — as well as a copy of a marriage license and a fancy-looking marriage certificate. 

“Well,” Armie said, blowing out a breath. “There it is.”

Timmy examined his signature on the license. It was definitely his, if a little sloppy. And there, on the certificate..._ joined in lawful wedlock Armand Douglas Hammer and Timothée Hal Chalamet_. He hunched down on his sofa cushion.

“So we actually did it,” Timmy said. “Armie, how the hell did we manage to figure out how to get married — like with a license and everything — if we were so drunk we blacked out?”

“Well, we’re resourceful,” Armie said. “Remember that night in London when you decided if you didn’t get gelato you’d cease to exist? We somehow managed to find gelato at three a.m. while completely blitzed. This is...basically the same. Just on a different order of magnitude.”

Timmy did remember that. It was not long after Armie had decided he needed to focus on his marriage, and it was one of the first times they had let themselves loose since they had stopped sleeping together. He smiled slightly at the memory, at how relieved he was that they seemed to so easily transition into their new roles and not lose the closeness that had developed between them. 

The concierge returned then, beaming. “Some good news,” he said. “We don’t have a bracelet like you describe, but I do seem to have your phone. Someone turned it in from _ Tao _ nightclub last night.”

He passed Armie his phone, and Armie grabbed it. “Thank god,” he said. He elbowed Timmy in the side. “So I _ did _ lose it in the club after all. Hey, maybe there are photos on here of that part of the night.”

“Can I do anything else for you gentlemen?” The concierge gestured at a drink cart. “Get you some tea, or a glass of wine?”

“We’re good,” Armie said. “Thanks.”

As the concierge moved away, Armie turned on his phone. 

“Woah,” he said. “I’m nearly out of power, but Jesus, I’ve got like thousands of notifications. Texts and calls and...”

Timmy’s stomach clenched. He suddenly had a bad feeling. 

“Maybe you shouldn’t check them yet,” he said. “Maybe we should just get out of here. Go back to the Mandalay. You can plug in your phone, I can dry mine out. The guys are—“

Armie’s phone rang then. “It’s...Evelyn,” he said. “She’s called a bunch. I should probably take this.”

His left hand came down to rest on Timmy’s knee as he swiped to answer the call. Timmy stared at Armie’s hand, at the ring glinting there, and felt the warmth of his palm through the cloth of his pants. 

“Hey,” Armie said. “What’s up? Oh. You heard about that, huh?” He glanced at Timmy with a sheepish smile and mouthed _ she knows_. “Yeah, Timmy and I kind of got carried away last night, too much to drink. Don’t worry, we’re going to take care of it, I’ve got my lawyer on speed dial—“

Armie stopped talking. He went three shades paler as he listened for long minutes, and his hand tightened on Timmy’s knee. Timmy’s stomach twisted, ringing itself into a tight coil. 

“Okay,” Armie was saying. “Okay. Listen I’ve got to...I have to talk to Timmy. I’ll call you back. I _ said _ okay. I heard you.”

He hung up and turned to Timmy, stress showing in the lines around his mouth as his lips pressed together. 

Armie took a deep breath. “I’m so sorry, Tim,” he said. “I’m...shit. We really fucked up.”

“What?” Timmy asked. “What did she say? Did we text her? What’s the matter?”

“We didn’t text her,” Armie said. “We put it...it’s everywhere. All over social media.”

Timmy’s mouth dropped open. “No,” he said. 

Armie nodded grimly. “Instagram, Twitter. And it’s been picked up by all the gossip magazines. Everywhere.”

“Oh god.” Timmy’s face and neck flushed. “Now what? Everyone’s going to think...when we tell them it was a stupid drunk mistake and not real, that we undid it, they’re going to think we’re idiots with no self control.”

“But that’s the thing, Timmy,” Armie said. “We can’t undo it. Not now. That’s what Evelyn was saying. That if we get a divorce now, people will think we’re assholes. That I’ve been cheating on Elizabeth with you all along, and that’s the reason she and I split. They’ll think Elizabeth left because I had an affair, but one that’s not even important. I’ll be heartless, you’ll be a homewrecker, and all for a little sex...it’s a disaster for both of us.”

“So...what are we supposed to do?”

“Evelyn says we have to sell it as the romance of the century. Get people on our sides and rooting for us.”

Timmy’s gaze landed on Armie’s hand again. He knew what was coming. He _ knew _what Armie was going to say next, and his body didn’t know what to feel about it. Anxious, scared...happy?

Armie squeezed Timmy’s knee one more time. “She said that we have to...stay married.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are moments when you’re sure how to play the hand you’ve been dealt. Where you know without a doubt which cards to keep and which cards to toss, when you can bet and bluff confidently on your way to taking the pot. 
> 
> This? This was not one of those moments.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The trouble with writing a story where they start off married is that it becomes very important to be clear on each character’s motivation for staying apart.
> 
> I’m not entirely sure I’ve accomplished that here, but let’s just chalk it up to the fact that these boys are still in shock and rather hung over. They don’t yet know which way is up and are swinging on a pendulum of emotions.
> 
> 100% fiction, of course.
> 
> Enjoy!

There are moments when you’re sure how to play the hand you’ve been dealt. Where you know without a doubt which cards to keep and which cards to toss, when you can bet and bluff confidently on your way to taking the pot. 

This? This was not one of those moments. 

_ Stay married...we have to stay married...stay married… _

The words were stuck in a loop in Timmy’s brain as his entire body went numb. His eyes drifted to the ring on Armie’s hand, which was still squeezing his knee — though he couldn’t feel the pressure of Armie’s fingers any longer — and then to his own ring. Moving as though he were surrounded by gelatin, Timmy raised his hand to his mouth, pressed the ring against his lips until it hurt, trying to find feeling somewhere, anywhere in his millions of cells. 

_ Stay married...we have to stay married… _

Timmy became dimly aware that large palms were now framing his face and Armie was peering at him anxiously. His lips were moving. Timmy stared at them, hearing sound struggling to reach him through the roaring in his ears. He focused on the movement of Armie’s lips, and the muffled sound, and both started to take the shape of his name. 

“Timmy? Tim, can you hear me? Come on Timmy, focus. That’s right, right here. Just listen to my voice.” 

Timmy’s eyes flickered up to Armie’s, and he anchored himself on the murky blue pools, which seemed to be churning in their turbulent depths. He had always loved Armie’s eyes, how expressive and emotional they were. At the moment, they spoke of fright and concern. 

“Armie?” Timmy’s voice sounded foreign to his own ears, possibly because he could still hear the echoes of Armie’s proclamation booming from inside his head. 

“Yeah, I’m here.” Armie’s thumb skated across Timmy’s cheek and then his palm slid down to rest on the side of Timmy’s neck. He smiled, and the blue turned two shades clearer with relief. “Hey, there you are. You had me worried for a minute.” 

“Worried?” Timmy’s voice came out in a croak, and he tried to clear his throat, feeling it clog up. There was a moment of swallowing and gasping before he tried again. “Sorry, I—“

“It’s okay, just breathe,” Armie said. “Listen, fuck Evelyn. I’ll call her back, tell her we aren’t staying married, and she’s just going to have to figure it out. You don’t have to...we’ll be okay. People have memories like fish. They’ll forget all about this when the next thing comes along.”

Timmy’s hands came up and clutched onto Armie’s, which still rested on his neck. “No,” he said. 

“No?” Armie’s brows drew together. 

“No.” Timmy took a deep breath, let it out slowly. He drew Armie’s hands off of his neck and into his lap, still grasping them tightly. Something about being able to hang on like this made him feel more stable, and he was able to continue. “Evelyn’s right. Brian’s going to say the same thing once my phone is working again.”

Armie watched him carefully. “You know what, that’s a good idea. Let’s call Brian, and...we should probably take a look at exactly what we put online before we make any decisions.” He looked down at his phone, cursed, and then glanced around the lounge area. “Well, this is dead. So I need to charge my phone, and I’d like to change clothes. Let’s go back to the Mandalay and regroup. We can look at the damage, see what we think, call Brian...it’ll be okay. I promise.”

Timmy nodded. The reasonableness in Armie’s tone — and the concerned look in his eyes, the way he was completely focused on making sure Timmy was all right, settled Timmy’s nerves better than any medication could ever do. 

“Sure. I know,” he said. He managed a smile, and was surprised to feel like he meant it. Maybe he did. He cleared his throat again. “I mean, what’s the worst that happens, I’m stuck with your ugly ass for a while? We have to...what, be seen together and go to events together? Sounds fucking awful.”

Armie let out a surprised laugh, and then shoved Timmy’s shoulder. “Yeah. Completely terrible. It’ll be torture, since we can barely stand to look at each other.”

He rose from the sofa and held out a hand. Timmy took it, let Armie pull him to his feet, and expected Armie to drop his hand immediately. Instead, Armie tightened his grip, picked up their things, and led him out of the lounge.

As they walked through the hotel towards the entrance, Armie shifted his hand to lace their fingers together. They hadn’t done that in a long time, not since they were...doing whatever it was you would call what they had been secretly doing for a while when they weren’t supposed to be doing anything. And then, it was something done only in private, never in public. This, walking past hundreds of people, clasping hands in this way, felt like…

...well, it felt like they were a _ couple_.

That was confusing, at best, since a couple is something they had never been. They had been fucking around in secret. It was only physical, some fun, an itch to scratch. Convenient that they also were friends and enjoyed spending time together. But not...not a couple, no matter how much Timmy wished it to be the case. 

And now? Now they were in some strange limbo-space, having woken up in bed together, clearly having crossed that boundary they had established, but not yet talked about it. Had the...what had Armie called it? The _ this was a mistake, it can’t happen again, your friendship means the world to me _ talk? To complicate things, they were now actually tied together in a different, _ official and legal_, way.

If they did stay married, for some period of time so as not to destroy their reputations and careers, how were things going to be between them? Would they slip back into their previous physical relationship? Or would that be the stupidest idea ever? Would it be smarter to keep their distance so as not to confuse things further?

On the one hand, Timmy wanted Armie. He always wanted Armie, wanted him in a way that felt like it was written into his DNA, embedded in the nucleus of every cell. It had always been like that, and it hadn’t gone away when they had stopped messing around — Timmy had just gotten better at hiding it. 

So if they were married, forced together in this way, why not enjoy it? Why not take what he so desperately wanted, if it was offered to him?

On the other hand...he knew Armie was attracted to him, too. That had always been clear. But it was possible — likely, even — that Armie would want to redraw the boundary line, especially during the marriage, in order to avoid any difficult extraction when it did come time to divorce. And maybe that was smart, although his gut ached at the idea of being so close to something he wanted and not having it. 

Timmy’s head was spinning, and all he could do was cling to Armie’s hand and put one foot in front of the other as they stepped out of the hotel and into the late summer Las Vegas heat. 

Armie let go of Timmy’s hand to tip the attendant at the taxi stand, and Timmy self-consciously shoved both hands in his pockets, trying to ignore the trickles of sweat that had started to make their way down his back. When they climbed into the cab a minute later, he climbed in one side while Armie went around to the other. Timmy was fumbling with his seatbelt — he was having trouble getting the damned thing to catch — when Armie was suddenly filling up the other half of the back, his knees wedged up against the rear of the driver’s seat. He laughed.

“I should have gotten in on that side,” Armie said, waving his hand at the extra space Timmy had for his legs.

“Want to switch?” Timmy asked. He let go of the belt, but Armie caught it and deftly found the correct buckle, clicking it into place.

“Nah, I’ll just sit in the middle.” Armie slid across the seat until his hip was pressed against Timmy’s, extended his legs diagonally into the well behind the driver’s seat, and buckled himself in. Timmy held himself still for a minute, but as the car pulled into traffic and the motion pushed their shoulders together, he found himself naturally relaxing against Armie.

They were quiet for a few minutes, and then Armie spoke up again. “I keep trying to remember what happened last night.” He frowned out the window and sighed. “I get flashes here and there, but nothing...solid. Has anything else come back to you?”

“Nope,” Timmy said. “I still just have...that bit on the escalator, with you…with you…” he trailed off, his cheeks flushing, as he once again focused on that tiny piece of memory that had resurrected itself.

“With me what?” Armie peered at Timmy, his eyes sharp. 

“Oh, just…” Timmy looked down at his hands and huffed a small laugh. “I think that might have been where we...where things started. Because I remember you standing just one step below me, and you were...well. We were close.”

Armie’s gaze softened, and then he smirked. “So it _ was _ me who came onto you,” he said.

“Or maybe you were just responding to me,” Timmy smirked back. “Powerless to resist my advances, remember? Following along like a...like a…”

“Smitten kitten?” Armie suggested.

Timmy giggled. “What did you just say?”

Armie wiggled his eyebrows, struggling to maintain a straight face. “In-love turtle dove?”

Timmy giggled again. “Did you just make that up off the top of your head?”

“Schmoopy puppy?” Armie poked Timmy in the side.

“Okay, that’s not a thing—” Timmy pushed at Armie’s chest.

“Lovesick...ostrich?”

Timmy gaped at Armie. “Ostrich?”

“Well, what else rhymes with ‘lovesick’?”

“_Ostrich_? Ostrich doesn’t rhyme with—”

Armie dug his fingers into Timmy’s stomach and tickled him. Timmy twisted and writhed. He backed up against the door, but Armie didn’t relent until he was gasping for air and clutching at Armie’s wrists, tears of laughter gathering in his eyes.

When he finally stopped, they were pulling into the entrance to the Mandalay. Timmy had wriggled around defensively in his seat so that his back was now to the car door and his legs were thrown across Armie’s lap. Armie settled his hands on Timmy’s thighs, so that it made more sense for him to unbuckle his twisted belt than to straighten out. 

Timmy watched Armie’s hands flex gently on his thighs and skim slowly down to his knees. He was looking out the window now, not really paying attention to what he was doing, his movements absent-minded and casual. Timmy let himself enjoy the comforting touch, a relief after the recent tickle assault. 

He had always responded well to Armie’s hands. From their very first rehearsal on that lawn in Crema all those years ago, to their explorations at night as they tried to choreograph their scenes, to their casual friendly contact during those initial months, to the night it first turned into more...Armie’s hands felt like they were made to mold themselves to Timmy’s body. It was equal parts thrilling and soothing, and the idea that he might have access to that on a regular basis going forward was….

Well. It was something. 

The car pulled to a stop. Armie patted Timmy’s knee and smiled at him. “Home sweet home,” he said. Then he slid out from under Timmy’s legs and unfolded himself from the car. Timmy followed suit, blinking up at the way the sun reflected off of the mirrored exterior of the hotel. After a moment, he followed Armie inside.

They both sighed in relief at the air-conditioned interior, pausing for a moment to get their bearings before heading for the elevator bank that would take them to their suite.

“How are you feeling?” Armie asked, after punching the button for their floor. 

Timmy thought about how to answer. _ Nervous? Overwhelmed? Scared of...what people would think? Maybe a little bit excited to be able to spend time with the person he cared about most in the world, even if it was fake? _

“You said your headache was better,” Armie prompted. 

Oh. Timmy stopped his thought-train in its tracks. Armie was talking about how he was _ physically _ feeling, not mentally. He took quick stock. 

“It is,” he said. “It’s pretty much gone. I’m okay, I mostly just…” he thought of the fact that he was several floors away from his comfortable hotel bed and nearly groaned with the need to lie down and close his eyes, even just for a few minutes. “I mostly just want to take a nap.”

Armie nodded. “I feel you. We can do that, if you want.”

The elevator reached their floor and the doors whisked open. Their suite was at the far end of the floor, so they began the trek down the long hallway. When they arrived at the door, Armie waved his key card over the pad and reached for the door handle. Then he yanked his hand back. 

“Wait,” he said, glancing at Timmy. “The guys.”

“The..._ oh. _You think they’re here?” Timmy asked. 

“If they are, what are we...telling them?” Armie looked down at his hand, where the wedding ring glinted in the overhead light. “About us. The truth? Or—“

Before Timmy could answer, the handle turned. Someone was about to open the door from the other side. Thinking quickly — or maybe _ not _thinking — he reached out and grabbed Armie’s hand, threading their fingers together as before. 

The door swung wide, revealing Nick standing on the other side. 

“Fucking hell. It _ is _ them,” he called over his shoulder. His eyes darted from Armie to Timmy and then between them to their interlaced hands, and he burst out laughing. “You fucking _ assholes_,” he said. “Get the fuck in here and explain yourselves.”

He reached out with both hands and grabbed at their shirts, hauling them through the door. They stumbled into the suite’s living room and were greeted with a look of wide-eyed curiosity from Ashton and a leering grin from Tyler. 

“Look, it’s the groom and groom,” Tyler said. “You fucking lunatics.” He surged forward and hugged Armie, and then transferred his affectionate embrace to Timmy. Tyler gave good, strong hugs, and Timmy found himself hugging back with his free arm, laughing as Tyler pounded a fist between his shoulder blades. 

“So wait, is it real?” Ash asked. He was smiling now, too, but he looked mildly suspicious. “Did you really get married or was this some big joke?”

Timmy’s impulsive decision to grab Armie’s hand now seemed silly. They could tell these guys the truth, trust them to keep up the ruse. He didn’t want to lie to them, not when they’d always been so good to him when they really didn’t have to be. Who was he to them, after all? Some costar of Armie’s? Okay, maybe Armie’s friend? And yet these three had treated Timmy like he had been a part of their group forever, welcoming him with open arms. 

He went to let go of Armie’s hand, but Armie shifted his grip and lifted their hands into the light. 

“Look at that,” Armie said, turning Tim’s hand so that his ring was visible, and lifting his own left hand as well. “Those look real to you?”

All three leaned in, and for a moment, Timmy had the bizarre thought that they were going to bump heads. It didn’t happen, though, because this wasn’t a cartoon. Instead, Nick whistled. “They look nice is how they look,” he said. “Where did you get them on such short notice? Or…” he peered at them. “Did you plan this all along?”

Armie glanced warily at Timmy, and then at the ground. He shook his head. “No, it wasn’t planned. It just...happened.”

Ash rolled his eyes. “Getting married doesn’t just _ happen. _Even in Vegas. You have to actively go get a marriage license. When did you manage that? Or is this not officially legal yet?”

“It’s legal,” Timmy heard himself saying. “We’ve got all the paperwork. Obviously it didn’t _ just _happen. What Armie meant was that we...decided, on the spur of the moment, that...that we wanted…”

“That we wanted to be married to each other, and there was nothing stopping us,” Armie said. “So why wait?”

“You wait so that your best fucking friends can fucking be there by your side when you take such an important, life-altering step.” Nick sighed. “Jesus, man. We were _ here_. We could have...would have stood up for you. Why didn’t you just tell us? Even after the fact? We had to find out though Instagram and angry voicemails from your publicists.”

Nick was hurt. Timmy could see it in the twist of his lips, hear it in his voice, and his heart ached. Nick should have been there with them. Ash and Tyler, too. They should have been the best men. Them, and Will, and Giullian. And Pauline. They would have—

Timmy gave himself an internal shake. It wasn’t _ real_.

“Hey man,” Tyler stepped forward again and clapped Nick on the back. “Don’t take it personally. They were swept up in the romance of it, and forgot about us because they were only thinking about each other. I always knew it would happen someday, it was just a matter of time.” He turned back to Armie and Timmy. “Congratulations, guys. Seriously, from the bottom of my heart — hold on, we should make a toast.”

He dashed off to the kitchen and dug in to the bar, emerging with a bottle of champagne and five glasses. As he poured four glasses of champagne and one of sparkling water, Armie reached out and put a hand on Nick’s shoulder. 

“You’re right,” he said. “We should have waited long enough to include you guys. We just...when we decided to do it, we didn’t want to wait an extra second that we didn’t have to.”

Timmy heart squeezed. Armie was so good at this, and it sounded so real when he said it. Like that had actually been their reasoning, that they were so excited about getting married that they couldn’t even wait the twenty minutes it might have taken to track down the guys and involve them. 

More likely, in their drunken haze, they hadn’t given the guys a thought. Or had been afraid the guys would talk them out of what was clearly a terrible idea. 

Tyler returned and passed around the glasses. “To Armand and Timothée,” he said, raising his glass high. “May you find many interesting things to argue about and always have great makeup sex.”

Armie let out a loud guffaw, and Timmy swallowed a surprised giggle. 

Ash raised his own glass. “To Armie and Timmy,” he said. “I wish you a forever of luck and happiness.”

Timmy grinned at Ash’s suddenly sincere tone, and Armie squeezed his hand. 

Nick rolled his eyes and raised his glass as well. “To the two biggest idiots I’ve ever had the misfortune to call my friends. May you throw yourself a big fucking party when we get home and invite me this time. And also...I’m really happy for you both.”

They all took a sip, and then Tyler set his glass of sparkling water on an end table and started clapping his hands, chanting, “Kiss. Kiss. Kiss. Kiss.”

Timmy glanced up at Armie, an uncertain smile trembling on his lips. Armie’s smile was sure and solid, however, and he swooped down to press his mouth against Timmy’s, claiming the kiss. 

As soon as their lips met, Armie dropped Timmy’s hand and pulled him close, arms winding around Timmy’s waist and hands flattening against his lower back. Timmy went motionless for a second, long enough to be aware that someone was grabbing his champagne glass from him — thank god, because he had been about to drop it — so that he could slide his hands up around Armie’s neck and into his hair. 

For a minute, everything fell away — the muddle of lost memory, the haze of hangover, the lack of clarity about the future — and the only thing in Timmy’s sphere of relevant reality was _ Armie Armie Armie_. He pressed closer, rising on his toes, and was rewarded by Armie’s hands slipping down to cup his ass. 

He became dimly aware of a wolf whistle piercing the air, and someone coughing, and actual reality began to seep back in. Their lips parted, and Armie rested his forehead against Timmy’s, smiling against his mouth. 

“Okay, get a room,” Nick was saying. 

“They did get a room,” Ash commented. “Where the hell did you guys stay last night, anyhow?”

Armie left his arms around Timmy, but lifted his head to answer. “The Venetian,” he said. “But speaking of rooms, we’re still kind of wiped. We also need to make some calls, since, as you noted, our publicists are sort of…”

“Less then chuffed?” Tyler supplied. 

“Yeah. So...we want to take you guys out tonight, celebrate properly, but for now, do you mind if we…”

“Go,” Nick said. He shooed them towards the primary master off the main room, where Armie had been staying. Armie snagged Timmy’s hand again and started for the door, but Timmy pulled back. 

“My stuff,” he said, when Armie looked at him quizzically. “It’s all upstairs.” He pointed up towards the second floor of the suite, where Timmy’s room was, next to the one Tyler and Ash were sharing. He really just wanted a change of clothes. 

“We’ll move your things down,” Ash said. “And I’ll take your room, which will be great, since Tyler’s feet smell.”

“Your ass smells worse,” Tyler shot back. 

“Thanks,” Armie said. “Hey, can one of you also call down to the concierge and see about getting a baggie of rice? Timmy’s phone took a swim last night and we need to dry it out.”

Timmy smiled gratefully at Armie. He had completely forgotten about his phone. But Armie had remembered. 

“On it,” Nick said. “What, did you drop it in the toilet?”

“Champagne bucket,” Timmy said. “I think I might have been trying to shut it up.” It was something that had occurred to him after they found out they had put the wedding on social media, that his phone must have been blowing up with notifications. 

“You couldn’t just turn it off?” Nick asked. 

Timmy shrugged. “Drunk logic?”

“Come on,” Armie said, tugging at Timmy’s arm. “There’s a bed in there and I want to be in it.”

Timmy let himself be pulled into the master’s sitting area to the sound of the guys hooting encouragement at them and Ash reminding them to keep their clothes on long enough for him to deliver Timmy’s things. 

Armie shut the door firmly behind them and sighed, leaning up against it. “Well,” he murmured. “That was…”

Timmy waited for him to finish the sentence. _ Painful? Awkward? Embarrassing? _

“...nice,” Armie said. He pushed away from the door and went to the desk, where he plugged in his phone. “They’re on board with the fact that we got married. I’d even say they were genuinely happy for us.”

“Yeah,” Timmy agreed. He crossed the room and sank onto the sofa. “I feel guilty.”

“Guilty why?” Armie asked. He went to the mini-bar and pulled out two bottles of water, tossing one to Timmy and cracking open the other. 

“Because...we’re lying to them,” he said. “They don’t deserve that. We can trust them. We should have told them the truth.”

“Oh.” Armie paused, the water bottle halfway to his mouth. “I thought you wanted to just go all in with it, and that’s why you grabbed my hand.”

“I know. I did, I guess. We had to decide fast and—“

“We can tell them the truth, if you want.” Armie shrugged and downed the water. Timmy watched his Adam’s apple bob up and down with each swallow. There was no earthly reason for that to be so hot, and yet… Armie finished his water and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Just...as long as we agree on what the truth actually is first.”

“The truth is that we’re not actually married,” Timmy said, his face scrunching in confusion. 

“Ah, but we are actually married,” Armie said. He crossed to the sofa and sat down, tapping Timmy on the nose. “I have the paperwork to prove it.”

“You know what I mean,” Timmy said, swatting Armie’s hand away. “That it’s not like we made a...conscious decision to get married because we’re madly in love or...or something. We were drunk and being stupid.”

Armie gazed at him a long moment before he got to his feet again. He paced to the window as he spoke. “Right. So the truth, then, is that we got drunk, woke up married, and might stay married for a while to avoid career suicide?”

“I guess. But we can’t tell them that _ now._” Timmy watched Armie’s back, saw the shirt he was wearing pull across his shoulders as he crossed his arms. “They’ll be even more hurt.”

“So I guess to them — and everyone else — we _ are _ madly in love.” Armie turned to face him. “But we’ll know the truth.”

Timmy squirmed in his seat. He couldn’t quite read Armie’s look. There was a half smile on his face, but his eyes looked...soft and distant. 

Then Armie laughed, and everything seemed normal again. He returned to the sofa and sprawled next to Timmy. “We’re getting ahead of ourselves. We don’t even know yet if we’re going to _ stay _ married. We were going to look over the shit we put on social media, call Brian. Oh, and I was also thinking, we can check the wedding website, with the photos. Get a look at the insanity in action.”

“Yeah,” Timmy agreed. “And maybe seeing the photos, and what we posted, will help us remember more. I hate not…not _ remembering_.”

“Me too,” Armie said. He reached out a hand and tugged at Timmy’s curls. “There are some things in particular I’d like to remember.”

He was looking at Timmy intently, his eyes a particularly deep shade of blue that sent electric shocks of warning through all of Timmy’s nerve endings. 

“Like what?” Timmy asked, knowing exactly _ like what_. 

Armie trailed a finger along Timmy’s collarbone, and when he spoke, his voice was husky. “I don’t know. Like, the way it must have felt to touch you again, after so long.”

Timmy let out a shaky breath as Armie’s finger traced its way back towards his neck, dipped into the hollow of his throat, and continued across to the other shoulder. Timmy knew he shouldn’t fall prey to this, that all it would do was cloud his judgment and confuse things in his own head. 

And yet...maybe...

“That kiss just now was something,” Timmy murmured. He held his breath as Armie’s finger took a southern path along his sternum, sending his heart into a staccato rhythm that he was sure Armie could feel and hear. “I thought so, anyway.”

“Yeah. It also made me think...there’s more than one way to jog our memories, besides looking at photos. We’ve got a bit before the phone reboots, anyhow. We’ll have to find something to do in the meantime.” He leaned forward, and Timmy’s gaze fell to Armie’s lips. 

This was a stupid, stupid idea. He knew it as well as he knew that he could no more stop the forward momentum of his desire than he could have stopped a racing freight train with his bare hands. 

“Oh yeah?” Timmy breathed. “What did you...have in mind?”

Armie shifted forward again, so that his lips hovered and inch from Timmy’s. He paused there, letting their breaths mingle, before he ducked his head and placed a soft kiss under Timmy’s jaw. Timmy let out a tiny whimper. 

“Timmy,” Armie breathed against his neck. He slid a hand up Timmy’s leg and kissed him again, just a gentle press of lips on sensitive skin. “Please. Let’s just, for a little while—“

There was a knock on the door, and they sprang apart just as Ash barged in, towing Timmy’s suitcase and backpack.

“Here you go,” he said. He paused and peered at them suspiciously. “Everything okay?”

“Fine,” Armie said, shifting in his seat. “Thanks, Ash.”

“No problem. Nick wants to know if you guys want to go to the aquarium with us this afternoon, or if you want to…” He trailed off, then grinned. “Yeah. Okay. We’ll meet up for dinner. Tyler said we’ve already got reservations at that Japanese place at seven.”

“We’ll see you there,” Armie said. He shifted closer to Timmy, settled his gaze on Timmy’s neck. 

Timmy felt his heart speed up again. He barely heard Ash leave, closing the door behind him. As if it was drawn by a magnet, Timmy’s hand found its way to Armie’s cheek and the soft stubble there. Armie smiled and leaned into it. 

“Now,” he said, “where was I?”

Timmy’s thoughts raced. They hadn’t talked about this yet, hadn’t _ decided _ if they were going to keep being physical while they were…

As Armie’s lips fastened to a spot on Timmy’s neck again with a gentle suction, all thoughts fled except for one, something he had been thinking about earlier. 

There are moments when you’re sure how to play the hand you’ve been dealt.

This? This was one of those moments. 

Timmy pushed Armie off of him. “Wait,” he said. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Timmy’s hand began to shake, and he pressed the phone more solidly against his ear in order to avoid whacking himself in the head. Brian was offering him an out. Instead of falling in line with Evelyn, instead of saying what Timmy thought he was going to say, Brian was standing beside him, letting him call the shots.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A super quick update this time!
> 
> Believe it or not, when I leave you hanging like I did last time, I leave me hanging too. I couldn’t wait to keep writing. Sorry not sorry.
> 
> 100% fiction, of course.
> 
> Enjoy!

Timmy pushed Armie off of him. “Wait,” he said. 

Armie blinked at him, a flash of hurt and disappointment appearing in his eyes for a moment and then disappearing behind a curtain of attrition. 

“I’m sorry,” Armie said. “I’m being—“

“I’m not...I’m not saying _ no, _ ” Timmy said. “I’m saying _ wait_. We have to talk first.”

After a pause, Armie nodded. He sat back on the sofa and folded his arms across his chest. 

“I suppose you’re right,” he said. “I guess we should figure out what we’re going to do first. My phone —“

“That’s not what I meant,” Timmy said. “Come on, Armie. We _ know _ what we’re going to do. Looking at social media posts isn’t going to change anything. Evelyn’s right, Brian will agree. If we don’t stay married, at least for a little while —“

“And sell this as the ‘romance of the century,’” Armie added, hooking his fingers into air quotes. 

“Right, _ and _ sell it, things will be bad. I mean, we’d eventually get over being labeled a homewrecker and an adulterer, probably. But it’ll be easier for people to forgive us for...for falling in love against the odds and patiently waiting for the opportunity to be together, and then…”

“And then being so sure of each other that we immediately made the ultimate commitment, optics be damned. Yeah, I think people will eat that up.” 

Timmy licked his lips. “Especially because we’re both kind of...people generally think we’re good people. So they’ll probably be willing to overlook the timing and believe that we weren’t doing anything _ wrong_, exactly, except...except…”

“Except finding our true soulmates, fighting against it, but ultimately making a choice to be happy while causing the least damage possible.” Armie shook his head. “Shouldn’t be too hard to sell. I mean, some of it’s the truth. We didn’t actually do anything wrong.”

“We did, though,” Timmy reminded him gently. “For a long time.”

Armie frowned. “Yeah. But that wasn’t...Timmy, you didn’t _ wreck _ my marriage. You know that, right? That didn’t actually have anything to do with you?”

Timmy sighed and began to pick at a loose thread on the edge of the sofa cushion. “I know you didn’t, like, divorce her because you wanted to be with me, or whatever. But be honest. If we hadn’t started sleeping together, would you guys have started having problems?”

“_Yes,_” Armie said firmly. “We were already having issues before you and I even met. It’s more likely that I started sleeping with you because I was having problems with her rather than the other way around.” He sighed. “Our marriage wasn’t healthy, and it hadn’t been for a long time. It just took a while to die, but that would have happened with or without you.”

The idea that he didn’t need to feel guilt about the demise of Armie’s marriage was a new one. Timmy turned it over in his head, tried it on for size. Could it really be true? Was this heaviness he felt whenever he thought about his role in making Harper and Ford the children of divorce something he didn’t need to carry?

He wasn’t sure he fully believed it, but he was going to file it away for further review. Armie seemed adamant, and he was usually candid with things like this. On the other hand, Armie also often took total responsibility in situations where there was, at best, shared fault. It was a reflex for him to assume the full load of guilt associated with a problem. 

Timmy wasn’t willing to let him do that, not if he could help it. But for now, that wasn’t the issue at hand. 

“Okay, fine,” he said. “In any event, we both know that staying married and selling this great romance is our best option, unless either of us has a strong reason for _ not _staying married — aside from not having intended to get married at all — then I guess we’re stuck with this situation for a while.”

Armie nodded. He let out a small laugh and shook his head. “Yeah. Stuck. While this was not how I pictured — okay. So we’re staying married for a while.”

As soon as he said it, Timmy relaxed. He felt like a huge weight was lifted, one that had been crushing him since he first saw the rings that morning. They still needed to work out details, but at least they had a path forward. 

And...maybe a part of him was excited to have an excuse to spend time with Armie, _ publicly _ for once. It wouldn’t last forever, but he’d take what he could get. 

“Now that that’s settled,” Armie said, “can we talk about the _ other _ thing?”

Timmy blinked at Armie, still swimming in relief at not being twisted up over what they were going to do. 

“Other thing?” he asked. 

Armie smiled. “The thing we were in the middle of when you told me to _ wait_,” he said. 

Timmy swallowed, and tried to figure out how to start, since Armie seemed to be leaving it up to him. He shifted so that he was sitting sideways on the sofa, his back to the arm and his legs folded under him. 

He tried to put into words the complicated thoughts swirling around his head, thoughts that were less rooted in language and more a mess of emotions and impressions and desires. 

“So,” he said, finally. “First of all. It’s not that I don’t...want…” He waved his hands between them. 

“Right,” Armie said. One side of his mouth quirked up. “We both admitted that we do, I thought. This morning?”

“Yeah.” Timmy dragged a hand through his hair, trying to fasten on his next word. Or even his next syllable, but things were still a mess in his head. 

“So we agree that this thing between us...is still a thing. That it never went away.” Armie’s eyes dropped to his lap. “That’s true for me, at least.”

Timmy nodded. “For me too. I never didn’t want — yeah. It didn’t go away.”

Armie let out a breath. “Okay. So now that we’re..._ stuck _...for a while, why not enjoy it a little? What’s the problem?”

“It might complicate things,” Timmy said, trying to explain. 

“What’s it going to complicate?” Armie asked. Then he went very still. “Wait, were you — are you seeing someone? Is this marriage thing fucking up—“

“No, no,” Timmy said quickly, spreading his hands in front of him. “I’m not...no, there isn’t anyone.”

“Okay.” Armie relaxed back against the sofa again. “Okay. So if you’re not worried about screwing up some other relationship, I’ll ask again...what’s it going to complicate?”

Timmy bit his lip. How could he express what he was feeling without revealing too much? Without letting Armie know that if they just rushed into a physical relationship on _ top _ of having to fake a grand romance, Timmy was likely to fall for the lie? That Timmy wasn’t sure he could keep the physical separate from the emotional and still be _ friends _with Armie. 

“I feel like we maybe shouldn’t just...let things happen.” Timmy clutched one hand in the other and pressed them into his lap, frustrated at the imperfect expression of his thoughts. 

Armie smiled. “It’s a little late for that,” he said. He held up his left hand, wiggled his ring finger. “Don’t you think?”

“Well, but that’s what I’m talking about,” Timmy said. He pursed his lips, and finally found the right words. “Since we woke up, I feel like things have been _ happening _ and we haven’t really had control. You even said out there —“ He waved his hand vaguely at the door to the living room. “— that us getting married just happened. I’m not sure it’s a good idea to have anything _ else _ just happen, without it being, like, a deliberate choice.” _ One where we can set boundaries and rules and control it_, he thought. 

Armie stared at Timmy for thirty seconds, and then he rubbed a hand across his forehead. “You think I’m not making a deliberate choice?” he asked quietly. 

“I think it’s maybe just...convenient. Right? You’re single now, and we still — and now we’re married, and we’ve got to pretend to the world that we’re in love, and adding the physical to it seems like it might be just because it’s easy.” Timmy chewed on his bottom lip. “And that feels like it’s more stuff that we don’t have control of.”

“So...then are you saying you want to be hands off?” Armie looked like he had swallowed something sour. 

Timmy shook his head frantically. He _ didn’t _want that, though until Armie had offered it as an option, he hadn’t realized how much he didn’t want that. “No, not necessarily. I just want it to be a choice. That we think about and then define and—“

“Okay,” Armie said. “How long do you need?”

“How long do I need for what?” 

“To think about it. To make a choice.” Armie tilted his head to the side, gave Timmy a wry smile.

“I don’t...how long do _ you _need?” Timmy asked. 

“I needed about three seconds. I’m ready.”

“Oh.” Timmy let out a shaky breath. “But don’t you worry that—“

“You’re overthinking this.” Armie shifted forward, moving into Timmy’s space. He reached out and took Timmy’s hands in his, swiped his thumbs across his wrists.

Timmy’s pulse picked up as Armie continued to stroke his hands.

“Forget about the being married thing for a second.” Armie raised Timmy’s right hand to his mouth and kissed his knuckles. “Forget about the great romance we have to sell.” He repeated the treatment with Timmy’s left hand, brushing his lips across the ring. “Okay? Without all of that, if I came to you this weekend, if we were hanging out, and I leaned in…” He did so, until his mouth was a breath away from Timmy’s ear. He dropped his voice to a husky whisper. “If I came to you and said, ‘you still make me so hot I can’t think straight,’ what would you do?”

Maybe he _ was _ overthinking, because Timmy’s body knew exactly what it would do. He turned his head and captured Armie’s lips. Armie responded, mouth parting, but let Timmy retain control. Timmy angled his head to the left and deepened the kiss, licking into Armie’s mouth slowly and steadily. After a minute, he pulled back. 

“Sorry,” he said. 

“Don’t be sorry.” Armie grinned. “You may have just reacted then, but it’s still a choice, right? If I apologized for taking advantage—“

“You didn’t,” Timmy said. “I kissed you.”

“Then listen to me, okay? I’m not just falling into this. It’s a choice. The way I want you, it’s…” He took a deep breath. “It’s not just because you’re _ there_. I thought about it before this weekend, how to broach the subject, see if you were still interested, now that I’m free. I just didn’t want to make things weird between us, so I hadn’t managed to _ say _ anything yet.”

Timmy’s lips parted. Armie had considered striking up their fling again? Before the whole marriage fuck up?

With a chuckle, Armie continued. “Don’t look so surprised. We’ve always been a bit...incendiary. I wanted to see if we still were. Now I _ know_. So no, it’s not just _ convenient_.” He leaned back in, kissed the edge of Timmy’s jaw. “The fact that I’m now _ stuck _ with you for an indeterminate period of time has nothing to do with the fact that even without that, I would choose to put my mouth all over you.” He kissed the spot just under Timmy’s ear, and Timmy’s heart thundered. “I would choose to touch you softly and watch all your gooseflesh spring to life.” He kissed a bit of skin just above Timmy’s collarbone. “I would choose to press my fingers inside you and—“

“Okay,” Timmy said breathlessly. He surged forward, pressing Armie back into the sofa cushions. He climbed into Armie’s lap and straddled his thighs, then cupped his hands around Armie’s jaw. “Okay. It’s a choice.”

Without any further hesitation, Timmy latched onto Armie’s mouth and moaned into it. Armie’s fingers dug into Timmy’s hips, pulling him closer, and Timmy slid himself up and into Armie’s stomach, forcing his head back and plunging into his mouth. 

Armie pulled him back down and then pushed him up again, and he began to rock his hips into Armie, letting out soft grunts with every delicious slide of his trapped cock against Armie’s abs. 

He lifted his mouth from Armie’s to draw in a strangled breath, and Armie growled “thank fucking god,” looped a hand around his neck, and hauled him back in. 

Somewhere beyond the roaring in his ears and the sound of his own whimpers, Timmy could sort of hear Armie’s phone rattling away on the desk. He ignored it, as did Armie. It stopped, started again. When it happened a third time, Timmy winced. 

“Do you —“ Timmy bit along Armie’s jaw towards his neck, “— want to get that?”

“Not a chance,” Armie said. He curled his fingers around Timmy’s ass cheek, pressing into the crease between them. Timmy groaned and pushed back to meet him. 

“You sure? Could be important.” Timmy sucked at the space just under Armie’s jaw. 

“Fuck that,” Armie said. His fingers swooped south along the crease until he could brush them along Timmy’s balls. 

“Oh _ shit _,” Timmy said, jerking his hips. “Stop, I’m gonna—“

There was a knock on the door, and they froze, breathing heavily. 

“Maybe they’ll go away,” Armie whispered. 

There was another knock. Timmy dropped his forehead onto Armie’s shoulder. 

“What do you want?” Armie barked. Timmy giggled and pressed a kiss onto Armie’s collarbone.

“Be nice,” he whispered. 

“Guys?” Nick’s voice drifted through the door. “They brought up that bag of rice for Timmy’s phone.”

“Well, we did ask,” Timmy said softly. 

After a long beat of silence, there was a burst of laughter from multiple sources outside. Then Nick spoke up again, sounding like he was still laughing. “I’ll just leave this outside the door. We’re going now. See you at dinner.”

“Thank you,” Timmy called out. “See you at — mmmph.” 

He was silenced by Armie’s tongue, which kicked up a lengthy round of just kissing, Timmy feeling like he wanted to crawl all the way inside Armie through his mouth, if that were possible. 

Why had he been hesitating here? _ This_, this was something that had been missing from his life for a while. Had he really been trying to avoid it, under some far off worry that he might not be able to handle it? _ Stupid, stupid Timmy_, he scolded himself. _ Have more faith in yourself. This is fine. Good. Fucking fantastic. _

The phone rattled again, and this time Armie pulled away with a heavy sigh. He lifted Timmy off of him and deposited him on the sofa, and then stalked across the room. 

“I thought you weren’t going to answer it,” Timmy said, watching Armie’s ass flex underneath his trousers.

“I’m not. Hang on a second while I drown this one too —“ He stopped and frowned down at the phone. “It’s fucking _ Brian_,” he said. “I guess you’d better...”

“Give it to me,” Timmy said, holding out his hand. “Might as well deal with this or they’ll fly out here and track us down.”

Armie tossed him the phone and then strode into the bedroom, grumbling about cock-blocking managers. Timmy grinned and answered the call. 

“Hi, Brian, don’t yell,” he said brightly. 

“Timmy?” Brian sounded exasperated. “Where the hell have you been? Why haven’t you been answering your phone? Evelyn said she talked to Armie a while ago but he hung up before she could—“

“My phone met with an accident last night,” Timmy explained. “It’s not working at the moment.”

He slid off the sofa and crossed to the door to the living room. He opened it and found the ziploc baggie of white rice the guys had left behind. Snagging it, he closed the door again, dug his phone out of his pocket, slipped it into the bag, and sealed it up. 

“Did you really _ marry _ him?” Brian sounded like he couldn’t quite believe it. 

“I...yeah,” Timmy said. 

“Jesus, Timmy. You couldn’t have told me you wanted to actually date the guy first? We could have rolled it out slowly, laid some groundwork, managed the way it looks—“

“Yeah, _ okay_, I hear you,” Timmy said. 

Brian sighed. “Is it real? Because Evelyn said something about how Armie told her you were going to undo it. Was it a joke? I know how you feel about him, but…”

Timmy winced. “Oh, it’s real. But it also wasn’t exactly well thought out. We were drunk, and we got carried away somehow. It was just a stupid mistake.”

Saying it out loud was like being hit with a bucket of cold water. 

_ It was a stupid mistake_. They had told each other as much, practically yelled at each other about how they badly they had fucked up. And now just because there were pretty rings, and their friends had given toasts, and Armie had the ability to make him hard just by _ looking _at him...he had brushed right past that and let himself get caught up in other things. 

“Okay. So, how do you want to handle this?” Brian asked. 

“How do _ I _want to handle it?” Timmy asked. “Evelyn said—“

“Forget about Evelyn for a second. Hell, forget about Armie for a second. How does _ Timmy _ want to handle it? Are we looking at an annulment and a sheepish apology on a couple of talk shows? A quickie divorce and no comment on all questions? A gag order on all the gossip rags from any further mention?”

Timmy froze. _ What? _

He cleared his throat. “I thought that if we undid it, it would look terrible. Like Armie had been cheating on Elizabeth with me, the homewrecker, and it wasn’t even important.”

“Maybe. I mean...yeah, sure. There’ll be some backlash. But people will get over it. You’re young, they’ll chalk it up to youth and foolishness and by next year it’ll be forgotten.”

“It’ll make Armie look really bad.”

“Let Armie and Evelyn worry about that,” Brian said firmly. “You worry about you.”

Timmy’s hand began to shake, and he pressed the phone more solidly against his ear in order to avoid whacking himself in the head. Brian was offering him an out. Instead of falling in line with Evelyn, instead of saying what Timmy thought he was going to say, Brian was standing beside him, letting him call the shots. 

He looked over at the door to the bedroom, where Armie had disappeared. He heard a toilet flush, and then water running. 

What did he want? Did he want out? He trusted Brian to be able to untangle this for him. If he said people would forget, they would. 

But then...what about Armie? Brian was telling him not to think about that, to put his own interests first. But could he do that to Armie? Just jump ship, let him fend for himself?

_ No_. The word burst into his mind, shouting from the inside. No. They were a team, weren’t they? They had thought of each other as two parts of the same machine for such a long time, their teams working in concert, well after the movie and promo tour were distant memories. They always considered each other. 

He wasn’t going to stop now. 

And there was also that little voice in the back of his mind that reminded him that if he let Brian do his thing here, he and Armie wouldn’t be married anymore. And maybe wouldn’t be allowed — once again — to be around each other in public until the talk died down. 

That thought made him sick to his stomach. 

“I want to stick it out,” he heard himself saying. “With Armie.”

“You want to...are you sure?” Brian asked. 

“Yeah, we already talked about it. Decided the best thing to do would be to pretend we’re madly in love, and just couldn’t wait to be together now that it’s possible. Sell it as the romance of the century.” His voice didn’t sound like his own, and it echoed in his head. 

“Well. That will be an easy narrative to sell, and I’m sure you two...can pull it off, better than most. Have you thought about the duration? When will you separate?” Brian asked. 

“I don’t know. We haven’t gotten that far. To be honest, Brian—“ Armie re-entered the room, saw him still on the phone, and raised his eyebrows. “—we’re still kind of dealing with the...aftermath. It’s been an interesting morning.”

Timmy’s eyes widened and his mouth went dry when he got a good look at Armie. He had changed out of his clothes from the night before, donning only a pair of navy sweats. They sat low on his hips, and he wasn’t wearing a shirt. 

Meanwhile, Brian was chuckling, and Timmy tried to tune back in to the conversation. “Hungover, are we? All right, I’ll give Evelyn a call, we’ll bang out an initial battle plan, and call you tomorrow. In the meantime, maybe lay a little low. No more posting seventy-five Instagram stories in a row and outsourcing your ring shopping on Twitter, okay?”

_ Seventy-five IG stories? _ That had to be an exaggeration. 

“Okay,” Timmy said. “Lay low. Will do.”

He hung up. 

“So what’s the verdict?” Armie asked. 

“He...agreed with Evelyn,” Timmy lied.

“We’re all systems go on Operation Romance of the Century?” Armie asked. 

“Looks like it. He, um...mentioned we should lay low, give them a chance to figure out a game plan, and they’ll call us tomorrow.” Timmy tossed Armie’s phone back to him. “He also said something about seventy-five Instagram stories and asking Twitter for ring advice.”

Armie laughed. “Fuck, really? We must have…” He glanced down at his phone, and then at the sofa. He looked conflicted. 

“We should look,” Timmy said. “I’m kind of dying to know now, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, I guess I am.”

“You changed.” Timmy waved at Armie’s chest. 

“I had to get out of those clothes. You should do the same.” He smirked and took a step forward. “I could help you, if you want.”

Timmy backed over to his suitcase. “Stay back,” he said. “We wanted to look at the social media stuff. And _ then _ we can...get back to what we were doing before.”

Armie snickered. “As long as we do eventually,” he said, opening the door to the living room. “Go, change. I’ll grab us a snack.”

“Don’t look before I get to,” Timmy warned. 

Timmy rolled his suitcase into the bathroom and shut the door behind him. He took his time washing his face and combing his hair, then traded his outfit for a soft white t-shirt with holes in the left shoulder, and a fresh pair of boxer briefs. 

If Armie was going to be comfortable, then so was he. 

When he exited the bathroom, he found Armie sprawled out on the king-sized bed, his head and shoulders propped up on a mound of pillows, munching on Pringles out of a short can. He held it up. 

“Chips?” he offered. “I also brought these lemony sandwich cookies and a Dove bar. Milk chocolate.”

Timmy hesitated at the side of the bed. “We’re going to get crumbs on the sheets,” he said. 

“We’ll be careful,” Armie said, popping another chip into his mouth whole. He squinted at Timmy. “Oh, that’s right. You don’t like eating in bed.”

“Scratchy crumbs. Sensitive skin.”

Armie laughed. “I promise I’ll change the sheets myself if there are crumbs. Come on, we talked about a nap too, and so...this is the one-stop shop for all planned activities this afternoon.”

After one more moment of hesitation, Timmy climbed onto the bed. He scooted closer to Armie and settled against the pillows, their shoulders touching. 

“Gimme the chocolate,” Timmy said. 

Armie passed him the Dove bar and then held up his phone. “Ready?” he asked. 

Timmy peeled the wrapper back and bit off the corner of the candy. “Ready.”

They checked Instagram first. Brian _had_ been exaggerating, but there were a lot of stories posted to Timmy’s account. Thirty-four, to be exact, and two posts, between their account. 

As they clicked through everything, Timmy set the candy bar on the nightstand. His stomach was looping with each click. 

Both accounts had short, choppy videos from a nightclub — probably Tao, at the Venetian — which were mostly dark blurry shapes jostling around with loud club music pulsing in the background. There was one close up of something that flashed green and blue and orange and red and purple and green again. One photo of the lower half of Timmy’s face with his lips pursed around a neon straw. One of Armie’s feet on a glowing blue floor. Another of Timmy dancing on a wide column. 

Those were clearly from before Armie lost his phone. Armie had also posted a selfie of them in the corner of a booth, Tim snuggled up to Armie’s side. the caption read, “Luck or Fate?” That was it from Armie’s account. 

The narrative continued on Timmy’s. A photo of their clasped hands. A handful of pictures of Armie mid-sentence, his face pulled into comical expressions. Another selfie, of Armie hugging Timmy from behind and kissing his neck. 

Then a pair of rings — their rings — nestled in a jewelry box, with the caption “guess what’s happening?!!!!!”

A posed photo of Armie signing the marriage license and winking at the camera. One that wasn’t posed, of Timmy signing, his tongue poking out the corner of his mouth. A photo of the license itself with the caption “oh yes we are…”

There were photos of one of the canal boats at the Venetian, and then ten selfies of them kissing and one of their intertwined hands, rings visible. The caption read “OFF the market.”

That photo was also posted to Timmy’s account with the caption, “@armiehammer and I made it official tonight. Best night of my life.”

Twitter was leaner, with just four tweets on Timmy’s account, photos of rings with a general request to like favorites. 

A quick news search revealed that most of the major gossip sites had lifted photos from Timmy’s account, reporting that “_ Call Me By Your Name _ stars Timothée Chalamet and Armie Hammer turn their fictional love story into a real life romance by tying the knot in Vegas” or variations of the same. 

They tried logging onto the Wedding Wonderland website, but found a message that the professional photos of the wedding itself were not yet ready for viewing. 

Timmy was experiencing a mixture of emotions. Seeing the narrative of their night was like a roller coaster. Even though he couldn’t remember what had happened, exactly, he could imagine the recklessness he had felt in the club, the excitement of buying rings, the seriousness of signing the marriage license, the giddiness of their kissing. He could see the pride in what he had posted. “Off the market,” he had written. 

_ Fuck, _ he had meant it. He had meant all of it, even if he couldn’t remember it. 

“Well.” Armie turned his phone off and set it on the nightstand. “That was…”

“Evelyn and Brian weren’t kidding,” Timmy said. “We really did put it out there.”

“How are you feeling?” Armie asked. “Now that you’ve seen it. Do you remember anything?”

Timmy shook his head. “No,” he said. “Maybe some flashes of being in the club, but the rest is still...gone. You?”

“A little, maybe,” Armie said. “The club, but I already kind of remembered a bit of that. And maybe I remember the canal boats. I think I might have paid someone a bunch of cash to take us out in them after hours.”

“Sounds like something you’d do,” Timmy said. He sighed and flopped back against the pillows. He closed his eyes. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” Armie said. The bed shifted. 

“Taking a nap,” Timmy said. “Wasn’t that part of the plan?”

“I think nap was scheduled for after another activity.” Armie’s voice rumbled in Timmy’s ear. A shiver of excitement traveled through him, and he couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face. He kept his eyes closed. 

“Hmmm,” he said. “Tired now.”

“Yeah?” Armie nipped at his earlobe. “That’s okay, you just relax. I’ll do all the work.”

The mattress dipped next to his right hip, and then hands were on his stomach. Warm fingers slipped under the hem of his t-shirt and pushed it up to his chest. 

“_Fuck.” _ Armie’s whispered curse went straight to Timmy’s groin, and he let out a noisy breath in response. The breath turned into a soft moan as Armie’s lips began to map out a path from his stomach to his nipples. 

Timmy grabbed at his shirt and yanked it over his head, flinging it to the side. He strained his neck upwards to be able to see what was happening. Armie looked up at him and grinned, then surged up to kiss him. 

“Lie back,” he murmured. Timmy collapsed onto the pillows once more and surrendered to the waves of desire that swelled up inside him with every stroke of Armie’s hands, every swirl of his tongue. In no time, Timmy was gasping and arching his back, trying for even more contact all at once. 

When he felt Armie tug at his boxers, Timmy lifted his hips. The material slid over his hard cock with a teasing friction, and then his lower half was free. His eyes fluttered open. Armie was sitting back on his knees, staring down at Timmy with a look that was a combination of awe and hunger. 

Then he pushed Timmy’s legs apart, settled between them, and turned his attention to Timmy’s dick. He started with his hands, using long, slow strokes. Timmy’s hands twisted into the pillows by his head as his hips jerked into the circle of Armie’s fingers. 

Armie’s transition from hands to mouth was sudden. One second, it was Armie’s palm sliding up the underside of his cock; the next it was his warm, wet tongue. Timmy let out a strangled cry, and then Armie swallowed him down all at once. 

He remembered this. Remembered how fucking _ good _Armie was with his mouth, how he could have Timmy coming down his throat in minutes if he wanted to. 

It seemed that he wanted to now, because he was relentless, swirling his tongue around the head of Timmy’s cock, sinking all the way down so his lips were nestled in Timmy’s curls and swallowing so that the convulsions of his throat massaged Timmy in a way that was so pleasurable it was almost painful. He felt his balls draw up, and before he could shout a warning, his orgasm slammed into him. 

He pumped into Armie’s mouth as the pulses of pleasure coursed through him, and Armie worked him all the way through, swallowing him down. When the tremors subsided, Armie withdrew, licking his lips. Timmy blinked up at him groggily, and Armie grinned. 

“Thanks,” he mumbled. “Shit, Armie. That was…”

“Tasty,” Armie said. “Just like I remembered.” 

He crawled up the bed and settled beside Timmy, placing a kiss on his cheek. Timmy turned his head and found Armie’s lips, tasting himself and Armie all at once in a heady blend that made him moan. 

Armie gathered him close, and he turned into Armie’s chest, rubbing his cheek against the soft hair there and inhaling the comforting scent that he had never been able to connect. 

“What about you?” Timmy asked. He could feel the post-orgasm drowsiness closing in, but he didn’t want to leave Armie hanging. 

“Later,” Armie said. “Nap now, okay?”

Timmy hummed contentedly in response. Later he would turn Armie into jello, the way he used to. He hoped he could still do it. He wanted to find out. 

As he floated in that space between wakefulness and sleep, it occurred to him that, whatever the real reality might be, he was, technically, in bed with his _ husband_. His husband, who had just sucked him off in a way that no one else had ever been able to do. His husband, who was also his favorite person in the world. 

Even though this wasn’t permanent, something inside him erupted into joy at the idea that he got to have it, sort of, for a while. He opened his eyes and found Armie watching him, a soft look on his face. 

On impulse, he reached over to grab Armie’s phone from the nightstand. 

“What are you doing?” Armie asked, an amused smile creeping across his face. 

Timmy punched in Armie’s passcode and opened the camera. He held up the phone to frame their heads nestled on the pillow beside each other. 

“Look at me,” Timmy said, waiting for Armie to rolls his head to the side so he was facing Timmy on the pillow. He turned his face to Armie’s and grinned at the bemused look he saw there. He snapped the photo and checked it. “Yup. That’s cute.”

He opened a browser and logged into his own Instagram account, then posted the photo, with the caption, “Day 1 of ???: A++++”

Armie took the phone from him and squinted at the post. He laughed. “On it already?” he asked. 

“Romance of the century, right?” Timmy said. “Wouldn’t two madly in love newlyweds want the world to know how happy they are?”

He didn’t tell Armie the real reason he had posted the photo...so that, when this was all over, he’d have a record of at least one moment that felt utterly _ real_. 

Armie slipped the phone onto the nightstand and pulled Timmy back into his arms. Timmy snuggled close and kissed Armie’s chest before resting his cheek against it. He let the soft thud-thud of Armie’s heart and the warmth of his body lull him towards sleep. 

As he drifted off, he felt a kiss on the top of his head and thought he heard a whispered, “A plus times infinity.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Timmy woke a few hours later, he was sprawled across the bed, legs tangled in the sheets, alone.
> 
> _A dream, what if the whole thing was a dream?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know how I managed this. But I...am sort of proud of this chapter. It started out as this lifeless thing with no direction and somehow it turned into _this_. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I've enjoyed writing it.
> 
> Thanks for not getting sick of me as I posted like crazy this week. (Or maybe you are sick of me, but thanks for not telling me to fuck off.) And now I'm about to disappear for a bit as I turn my attention back to my neglected work and life and family. Stay tuned, you never know...I'm great at shirking responsibilities in favor of writing. If only they gave awards for that.
> 
> 100% fiction, as always. Love to you all.

When Timmy woke a few hours later, he was sprawled across the bed, legs tangled in the sheets, alone.

_ A dream, what if the whole thing was a dream? _

He sat up in a panic and looked around. Armie’s pants. Armie’s shoes. Armie’s hotel room. Armie’s bed. 

Squeezing his eyes shut, he lifted his left hand. He opened one eye and then let out a breath of relief when he saw the ring still settled on his finger. 

_ Not a dream_.

He collapsed back against the mattress, heart pounding. His reaction made no sense. It would have been better if it _ was _a dream, right? Then they wouldn’t be in this mess. 

But he wouldn’t be married to Armie. Wouldn’t be able to pretend, for a little while, that he could have the life he had always wanted. 

That was the irony of it...he _ wanted _ to be married to Armie. Had daydreamed about it countless times pretty much since they had met. And now he was, a fantasy come true, but it wasn’t real. 

The bathroom door opened, and Armie stepped into the room. He smiled when he saw that Timmy was awake. 

“You up? Want to go do things?” he asked. “Or are we napping more?”

“I’m…” Timmy gazed up at Armie, and a smile drifted across his face. “...not sure,” he finished. 

“Then I’ll decide,” Armie said. He dove for the bed, landing on top of Timmy, his arms holding his body a few inches from Timmy’s. He grinned. “Option C it is.”

He lowered himself onto Timmy, aligning their hips, and their mouths met. They sunk into the kiss, Timmy snaking his hands into Armie’s hair and arching his back so that their chests were brought into full contact, Armie framing Timmy’s throat with his palms and grinding his hips down. 

Armie was still wearing his sweats, while Timmy was naked. Even though Timmy wished for skin-to-skin contact, it also made him feel...vulnerable and open, in a way that excited him. His cock hardened, and he groaned. 

“God, you’re just…” Armie’s hands traveled down Timmy’s sides and back up, and he spoke into Timmy’s ear, his voice low and gravelly. “You’ve always been so responsive. Do you know how much I’ve thought about that over the past two years?”

Armie had been thinking about him like this during their time apart? A lightning bolt zinged through Timmy’s stomach and he shivered as Armie continued to stroke his skin. 

“How...how much?” Timmy asked.

“A lot.” Armie kissed Timmy’s cheek. “A very lot.” He kissed Timmy’s neck. “An incredible amount of lot.”

Timmy took a shuddering breath, wanting to somehow let Armie know that he wasn’t the only one who had been thinking about them. “You know what I’ve thought about?”

“What?” Armie scraped his teeth along Timmy’s collarbone and then licked over the same spot to soothe it, and for a second Timmy forgot what he had been about to say. 

“Um...I, um…I missed this.” His hand drifted up to the hollow of Armie’s throat. “That spot there. It always tasted exactly right, and I missed it when I no longer had access to it.”

Armie pushed himself up on his hands and smiled down at Timmy. He looked absolutely delighted. “Yeah?”

Timmy nodded. 

“It’s all yours,” Armie said. “I hereby give you ownership of that spot as part of your marital privileges.”

With a giggle, Timmy shoved Armie to the side, pushed him onto his back, and reversed their positions. Straddling Armie’s hips, he lowered his mouth to Armie’s neck and began to sample at the banquet he had been denied for too long. 

Eventually, he branched out in his explorations, moving on to Armie’s chest and drawing a satisfying moan and a shiver as he played with Armie’s nipples, licked along his ribs, and nosed into his belly button. 

Timmy remembered this, how Armie was so strong and solid but would turn into a quivering mass under his attentions. He liked it when Armie took charge and manhandled him, but he liked it this way, too. 

Armie’s sweats tented as his arousal grew, and Timmy casually slid a palm over his erection. 

“Unh,” Armie grunted, lifting his head from the pillow. Timmy grinned at the glazed look in his eye. 

“Is it later yet?” Timmy asked. 

“Wh-what?” Armie blinked at him in confusion. 

“You said I could take care of you ‘later.’ Is this later?”

“Oh. Yes. Definitely later,” Armie said, letting his head fall back on the pillow. 

Timmy removed Armie’s sweats quickly, and then sat back on his knees, taking in the view and licking his lips. 

“I thought about this, too,” he whispered, before he went to work. 

Having Armie’s cock in his mouth again was glorious. He had missed the size of it, the weight of it, the challenge of taking as much as possible without gagging — which he was admittedly rusty at — and the salty taste that burst over his tongue. 

But most of all, he had missed the sounds Armie made. They were different than the sounds he made while they were fucking, or when Timmy was using his hands. When Timmy sucked Armie down, he spoke in a language of breathy gasps, gulps, and whimpered pleas. 

It was the sexiest fucking thing, to hear Armie coming apart at the seams. 

And then, just before he came, he’d let out a single “_oh g—“ _and swallow the rest of the curse, pumping his hips up and arching his back, tearing at the sheets or the pillow, as Timmy gulped down his release and felt like the god to whom Armie was calling. 

Timmy pulled off of Armie and licked his lips, catching his breath. He knew he was grinning like the Cheshire Cat, but he couldn’t help it. 

“Fucking _ hell_,” Armie muttered in between harsh gasps for air. “Get the fuck up here.”

Timmy obeyed, crawling up the bed, settling onto Armie’s chest and grinning down at him. Armie reached up and scooped a trail of come from the corner of Timmy’s mouth and pushed it onto his tongue. Timmy sucked on his finger, and then pulled his hand aside and went in for a kiss. 

“Looks like I still got it,” Timmy said with a sigh, resting his head on Armie’s shoulder. 

“Still? That was...have you been practicing? Because I remembered you being good at that but...Jesus.”

Timmy closed his eyes and basked in the glow of the praise, humming contentedly when Armie began to stroke his arm lazily. 

“Actually...we should probably talk about that at some point,” Armie said, his words slurring a bit at the end, as if he was drifting towards sleep. 

“Talk about what?” Timmy asked. He was starting to drift as well. He felt like he had just had an orgasm along with Armie. 

“Who you’ve been practicing on,” Armie said. “I should probably know what exes you’ve got running around out there in case...well, in case.”

Timmy’s eyes flew open, drowsiness fleeing as though he had been doused with a bucket of ice water. “Now?” he asked. 

It wasn’t like he had had _ that _ many partners in the past couple of years. For a while, after Armie had put an end to their fling, Timmy simply hadn’t felt the urge to be with anyone else. Eventually, he had allowed himself to notice interest, and had gotten back into the game. 

But he didn’t want to talk about that with Armie. It might be too revealing. 

“No, not now,” Armie said, after a brief hesitation. “Just...at some point. I figure if we’re married, we’ve probably hashed all that out. Would look weird if I didn’t know.”

Oh, so that was all. Armie was just making sure he had info to make the marriage look real. He’d probably be happy with numbers, since he wouldn’t know — and would probably never meet — any of the men Timmy had chosen to pass the time with. 

He relaxed. Armie pulled the sheets and comforter over them, wrapped himself around Timmy, and within minutes they had drifted back to sleep. 

The next time Timmy woke, he woke up first, and there was no need to worry that he had just been dreaming. 

At the moment, he was completely tangled up with Armie. His right leg was hooked over Armie’s left hip with his right foot nestled securely under Armie’s thigh. His arms were wrapped around Armie’s torso. Armie’s right leg was wedged under Timmy’s hip, his right calf anchored around Timmy’s left leg as if to hold him in place. Armie’s hands rested on his ass in a way that felt like a claim of possession. 

He couldn’t have moved if he had wanted to, and he definitely didn’t want to. He was warm and snug against Armie’s chest, where he could nuzzle his nose into the hair there and place kiss after kiss wherever he wanted, and maybe a little nip with his teeth here and there. 

Which is what he was doing when Armie’s gentle snoring stuttered and he gave a surprised grunt, then tightened his grip and somehow yanked Timmy even closer. He dipped his head down and rubbed his face in Timmy’s curls. 

“What are you doing?” Armie murmured into Timmy’s hair. 

“Seeing what it would take to wake you up,” Timmy said. 

“That’s nice,” Armie said. “I like that, you can keep doing it.”

Armie’s voice was thick, raspy around the edges and velvety in the middle. Timmy wanted to drink it up. 

He twisted his head to meet Armie’s lips, attempting to do just that. Armie responded, and they shared a warm, lazy kiss. 

Timmy craned his neck so that he could see the clock on the nightstand, and frowned. “We’d better get going,” he said. “We’ve slept all afternoon. We’ve got a little more than an hour before we’re meeting the guys for dinner.”

“Do we have to?” Armie groaned. 

“Yes, we have to,” Timmy said. “They’re expecting us. And also, we’re in Vegas for only one more night. Don’t you want to go out and gamble and do things? This is your big celebration weekend.”

“But...bed. You. Comfy,” Armie whined. “Besides. Now this is our honeymoon. People expect you to be lame and not sightsee or meet people for dinner on your honeymoon.”

Timmy smiled and poked Armie’s lower lip, which was jutting out in a tiny pout. 

“Come on,” Timmy said. “They wanted to celebrate with us. We already hurt Nick by not including him in the wedding. And I mean, it’s not like it’s a _ real _ honeymoon.”

“I don’t know,” Armie said. “We’re wearing rings and are naked. Seems honeymoon-ish to me.”

Timmy pushed himself into a seated position. “Are you telling me that you’re not planning to take me on an actual honeymoon?” he teased. “No overwater bungalow in Bora Bora? No nightclub-hopping in Madrid? Am I not worth that to you?”

“I’ll take you wherever you want to go, and we’ll ignore the exotic location and fuck for two weeks. Sound good?”

“Or we could _ tell _ everyone we’re going, but really we just hide in your condo in LA and fuck for two weeks. It’d be cheaper and we could skip the long plane rides and the jet lag.”

Armie laughed. “See, this marriage is going to work out fine, we already agree on all of the important things.”

Timmy leaned down and kissed Armie’s chest. “But for now, we really should go meet them for dinner. Let them celebrate with us. And we did say maybe we wanted to go back to that nightclub, see if it made us remember anything.” He bounced a little on his knees, feeling a surge of energy. “I got cheated out of remembering you dancing last night. I demand an encore.”

Armie flung an arm over his eyes. “So rational,” he grumbled. “Fine. But afterwards, I’m dragging you back here and making up for lost time.”

“We’re going to lose maybe four hours,” Tim said. 

“I wasn’t talking about tonight,” Armie said, rolling out of bed. “I was talking about the past two years.”

Armie disappeared into the bathroom, and Timmy stared after him. 

* * *

When they walked into the restaurant an hour later, the guys were waiting for them, already seated at their table, a round of drinks at the ready. After boisterous greetings, Timmy slid into one of the two empty chairs between Tyler and Nick, and Tyler grinned and clapped him on the shoulder. 

“We weren’t sure you two would make it,” he said. “Glad you could drag yourselves out of your room to join us.”

“Yeah, we tried to take bets,” Ash said, “but since no one wanted to bet you would actually show up, I guess we all lost.”

Armie shot Timmy a look, and Timmy shrugged and smirked back at him.

“I told you that no one expects you to keep plans when you’re on your honeymoon.” Armie poked Tim in the side. “But no, _ someone _ said the guys would be disappointed.”

“Oh, the truth comes out,” Nick said with a laugh. “I always knew you were the loyal one, Timmy. Thanks for looking out.”

“All right,” said Ash, “I’m starving. Can we get the sushi flowing? And then you assholes can tell us what the hell happened last night.”

Timmy glanced at Armie in alarm, and Armie rested a reassuring hand on his thigh under the table.

“We’ll tell you what happened,” Armie said. “Although some things are private.” He winked at them, and they laughed.

Tyler waved the waiter over, and they ordered boats of sushi for the table, as well as hot sake and an assortment of small plates. There was a small argument over whether the dumplings should be steamed or fried, and whether they should start with oysters, but eventually they were sipping their pre-dinner cocktails and Nick looked at Armie and Timmy expectantly.

“So,” he began, “here’s what we know. You guys left the poker room around ten, sent a message that you would see us later, and then never showed up again until we saw your IG stories posted all at once at two in the morning.”

“Where were y’all then?” Armie asked. “Were you still at the Venetian?”

“Hell no,” Tyler said. “We left the poker room an hour after you did, and then moved on to Caesar’s where Ash made a killing at the blackjack tables.”

Ash shrugged. “It’s all in the counting,” he said. “And then we took the winnings and went to the cigar lounge at the Bellagio, which was on our agenda. We texted you whenever we moved locations, didn’t you see the messages?”

“Sorry,” Armie said. “Maybe, but it was a bit of a blur and we were...busy.”

“Speaking of, spill it. How did it happen?” asked Nick. He looked pointedly at Timmy. “Did he get down on one knee? Give you a heartfelt speech? Or was that you?”

Timmy swallowed. “It wasn’t...like we said, it just kind of happened. We went to the club at the Venetian, and one thing led to another.”

“Bzzzzzzzz.” Tyler made an annoying buzzer sound. “I’m sorry, wrong answer. We want the juicy details, boys. Come on. I’m an old married man, let me live vicariously through your whirlwind romance.”

“Whirlwind?” Nick scoffed. “Try four and a half years in the making.”

Timmy blinked at Nick, his words registering slowly. Did that mean Nick could see how much Timmy had always wanted Armie? Did it mean he hadn’t been hiding it as well as he thought? He knew Nick knew that he and Armie had messed around for a while, but he had never talked to Nick about the fact that it meant so much more to him than that, or revealed that he secretly wished that Armie would come back to him someday.

He was saved from having to think of a response when the waiter appeared with the sake and the small plates. They busied themselves passing everything around. Then Armie spoke up.

“The truth is, last night is a little bit fuzzy in terms of those details,” he said. “We’re still waiting for all of it to come back, which is why we keep saying it just happened. But I can tell you this: it’s the best thing to happen to me since I walked into that piano lesson four and a half years ago.”

His gaze locked on Timmy’s, and he smiled a smile that was soft around the edges, his eyes so full of fondness Timmy felt himself melting in his chair. He smiled back, and before he knew what he was doing, was leaning towards Armie. Armie met him halfway and their lips found each other in a gentle kiss that sent curls of desire spinning from his throat down to his toes.

“Jesus,” Tyler muttered. “Is it getting hot in here, or is it just you two?”

They separated, Timmy laughing self-consciously. 

“Now,” said Armie, settling a hand back on Timmy’s leg, “can we eat in peace and decide what we’re doing with the rest of the evening before I drag Timmy back to the suite and we disappear again until it’s time to leave?”

Timmy blushed.

“This is so going on IG,” Nick said, fiddling with his phone. “Dinner with the newlyweds means having to watch them do this a lot,” he muttered, typing. “I’m tagging you, fair warning.”

“Did you take a picture?” Armie asked.

“I filmed it,” Nick said.

“Asshole,” Armie said, but he squeezed Timmy’s leg and sounded amused.

An hour and a half later, pleasantly stuffed with sushi and buzzed from sake, they got to their feet. Armie tossed his napkin on the table and slipped his hand in Timmy’s.

“Shall we?” he said. 

The guys grunted their agreement, and the group set out for the Venetian. They had decided to go back to _ Tao _ so that they could celebrate the “scene of the crime,” as Tyler put it, as a group. Armie had made it clear there was a time limit on his involvement with this celebration, shooting Timmy a look that made Nick cover his eyes.

Tyler had suggested they walk the half-mile between the two resorts, to get some fresh air and work off some of their dinner. He and Nick took the lead, Ash pulled out his phone to make a business call while they walked, and Armie and Timmy fell to the back of the group.

“Doing okay?” Armie asked, once they were a safe distance behind.

“Yeah,” Timmy replied. He glanced up at Armie. “Is there a reason I...wouldn’t be?”

“I just wasn’t sure if I was too over the top during dinner,” Armie said. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

Timmy thought back over the dinner. It was true that Armie had been a little...handsy...with him. He also made a number of comments hinting at what his preferred plans were for the evening. Timmy had felt the flush of embarrassment several times, but he had been more pleased than uncomfortable.

“Especially with that thing I said about...this being the best thing that happened to me since walking into the piano lesson. I didn’t mean to lay it on so thick.”

Timmy blinked. That was what Armie was worried about? Something inside his chest deflated. Of course that was a line. Of _ course _ it was just something Armie said to sell their “romance of the century.” He was testing things out before a pilot audience.

Smart. Armie was smart. That was all. He wasn’t actually in love with Timmy, that was just the fiction Timmy was already falling for. He’d have to do a better job of remembering that.

“You did good,” Timmy said. “It was perfect. And did you like how I kissed you after you said it? I think they really bought it.”

Armie’s eyes darted away and then back to Timmy. He smiled. “Yeah, you played your part well.”

_ Tao _was just opening when they arrived, and so they were able to go right in and snag a booth on the edge of the main floor. The music was loud, the decor was garish, but as soon as the deep bass began to vibrate in Timmy’s chest, his mood lifted, and he felt the urge to dance.

He looked at Armie with a grin, and Armie shook his head and spread his hands out in front of him in defense. “Oh no,” he said, shouting over the music. “I know that look.”

“Come _ on _ ,” Timmy shouted back. “I told you, I was going to demand a repeat performance since I can’t remember you dancing last night and that’s not fucking fair. I never get you to dance, and the _ one time _—”

“I’ll dance with you,” Tyler said. “Give him a minute to warm up to the idea. We can go get everyone drinks, and then I claim the first dance.”

Timmy gave Armie one last, pleading pout, and then followed Tyler across the rapidly crowding dance floor to the bar. Once there, Tyler asked him what he wanted, and Timmy shrugged. He didn’t want to get wasted again. One forgotten night was enough.

As he was about to ask for a whiskey sour, he spotted a bartender handing someone a large goblet that was glowing in a cycle of colors — green and blue and orange and red and purple and green again. Something clicked in his memory.

“What’s that?” he asked Tyler, pointing at the drink.

A bartender heard him, and leaned in. “That’s our signature cocktail,” he said. “It’s called Destiny’s Kiss. Want one?”

“Yes,” Timmy said without thinking. 

“Okay, one of those, and three jack and cokes,” Tyler told the bartender.

After a few minutes, Timmy was presented with the colorful goblet. He took it between two hands and lifted it to the light, peering inside.

“It’s got one of those light-up drink gadgets,” Tyler said. “It’s like a souvenir.”

“I know what they are,” Timmy said. He took a sip of the drink. It was sweet and tart, and he could see himself drinking a million of these if he wasn’t careful. 

_ Like I did last night. _

“What’s in this?” Timmy asked the bartender. He rattled of an impressive assortment of alcohols, ending with _ Everclear_.

That explained it, then, Timmy thought. He — and probably Armie, too — had mainlined Everclear last night, hit a level of drunk in which they still felt clearheaded but had lost every barrier to impulse, and...that’s how things ended up the way they did.

They made their way back across the dance floor to their booth and handed the drinks around.

Timmy slid into the booth beside Armie, who threw his arm around Timmy’s shoulders and tucked him close. He eyed Timmy’s drink, and then leaned in and spoke in Timmy’s ear.

“What’s that?” he asked.

“I think it’s what we were drinking last night,” Timmy said. He took another long pull from the straw, and the light-up gadget bobbed past an ice cube and into sight. He plucked it out of the drink and held it up. It was a flat disk. It looked like—

“That’s the token,” Armie said, snatching it from Timmy’s fingers. He turned it over and over, squinting at it. “Yup. Luck on one side, fate on the other. So that’s what that fucking thing was.”

“And that one story on insta,” Timmy said. “With the flashing lights. I guess I saved one. Why?”

“It’s cute,” Armie said. “You like things that are cute. Like me.” He dropped the token back into Timmy’s drink and placed a kiss on his nose.

Timmy’s pulse jumped. “Yeah. I feel like...there was also your post, with something about luck and fate. You think it’s connected?”

Armie shrugged. “Probably. We probably got into the idea of luck and fate and got all philosophical about it.”

Something was pinging in the back of Timmy’s mind, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. He had a sudden image of holding the token and grinning up at Armie, while standing outside, next to a majestic fountain.

Armie was staring into the distance and frowning, as if he was experiencing a similar thing.

Then he shook his head as if to clear it, and looked down at Timmy with a small smile. He tossed back his drink and then squeezed Timmy’s hip. 

“All right, drink up. If you want me to dance, now is the moment.”

“Really?” Timmy shoved his drink away and slid out of the booth, grabbing Armie’s hand and pulling him along.

“Hey,” said Tyler. “I thought the first dance was mine.”

“Sorry,” Armie said. “Husband’s rights. Back off.”

Timmy laughed and led Armie out onto the dance floor. He bounced on his toes in time with the thundering bass, not caring at all how he looked, while Armie bobbed in place, looking around self-consciously.

“Don’t look at them,” Timmy said, pressing up against Armie and speaking in his ear. “Just look at me.” 

He drew back and found the rhythm, winding his body sinuously with the melody and punctuating his movement with a well-timed cock of hip or jerk of the shoulder. Every so often, he twirled in place, throwing his hands up in the air. He tried to ignore Armie, looking everywhere but at him for the first half-song. Then he peered up through his lashes, checking in, and grinned when he saw Armie watching him intently. He wasn’t moving — much — but that was fine. 

Timmy could work with that.

He moved in a circle around Armie, and Armie pivoted in place with him, like Timmy was a planet and Armie was the sun. With each revolution, Timmy moved closer, on a destined path of collision, until he was directly in front of his husband. He paused, motionless, their bodies an inch apart, the beat pulsing around them, lights flashing at the periphery of his vision.

Armie’s hands darted out, gripped his waist, and pulled them together, hips flush. Timmy smiled, wrapped his arms around Armie’s neck, and they began to move.

Before long, Armie’s head dropped to Timmy’s neck, and he sucked a kiss there before lifting his lips to Timmy’s ear.

“You’re fucking dangerous,” Armie said. Timmy giggled, and Armie laughed too. “And you know it.”

Timmy reveled in the feeling of Armie’s hands on him, Armie’s hips moving with his. After a song, he swiveled around so they were back to front, and Armie groaned in his ear. 

“Keep this up and I’m not even going to get you back to the suite. We’ll end up at the Venetian for a second night in a row.”

Timmy’s heart pounded with the music and at the knowledge that, while the marriage was a sham, at least _ this _ was real.

* * *

A couple of hours later, they were peeling each other out of clothes frantically while trying to maintain a rhythm of kissing.

“Do you—” Armie sealed his mouth against Timmy’s and then pulled back so he could yank Timmy’s shirt over his head, “do you feel like you’re okay to—” Another kiss.

“Yeah, yes,” Timmy said, wrestling with Armie’s belt. He couldn’t seem to get it undone. “Damn it.”

“I meant,” Armie said, batting Timmy’s hands away so he could deal with the belt himself, “can I fuck you? If not, you can—”

“I knew what you meant,” Timmy said. With the belt gone, he made quick work of discarding Armie’s pants.

Armie stumbled out of them as he pushed Timmy towards the bed. Then Timmy’s pants were off, and they fell across the mattress, tangling limbs together in a messy embrace.

“Don’t screw around right now,” Timmy gasped, as Armie sucked at his nipples. He felt like, if he didn’t get Armie inside him _ now _ , he was going to die. He knew that they had slept together the night before, but he didn’t _ remember _ it, so this felt like the first time in years, and after they had teased each other in the club for hours, he couldn’t wait another minute. He shifted his hips and pulled his legs wide, hauling Armie up into position. “I need you to—”

“Jesus. Okay,” Armie said. He rolled off of Timmy and found the lube in the drawer of the bedside table. Then he paused. “You know, I don’t...I don’t have…”

“Have you been with anyone since Liz?” Timmy asked.

Armie shook his head. “No one but you. I’m clean.”

“I’m clean too,” Timmy said. “Haven’t been with anyone since I was last tested.”

“Are you sure?” Armie asked. “I can call down to the front desk—”

“Armie, it’s okay,” Timmy said. “Please, I—”

“Shhhh.” Armie leaned in and kissed him, then dropped a hand to his cock, which was already weeping steadily. He swept his palm up and down, drawing a cry from Timmy.

“Please,” Timmy whispered brokenly.

“Here we go,” Armie murmured against his lips. 

A slick finger probed his entrance, pushing gently. He relaxed, and it slid inside. They both moaned.

“Fuck, you’re so…” Armie kissed him again, working his finger in and out with a rhythm that wasn’t quite hard or fast enough. But Timmy couldn’t protest, because his mouth was busy with Armie’s tongue. All he could do was whimper. Tears collected in the corners of his eyes.

A second finger joined the first, and then a third, as Armie slowly stretched and loosened him. His fingers just barely brushed the area right next to Timmy’s prostate, and it was enough to make him groan in frustration. Timmy tried to angle his hips, to meet Armie’s motions, but Armie had his legs trapped and he couldn’t move enough to make a difference. 

As soon as Armie’s mouth parted from his, he let out a string of curses.

“Please,” he said, “I need it fast. And hard. Not…”

“I hear you,” Armie said. He gave Timmy one last tender kiss, one last soft glide of his fingers, and then he pulled out.

He knelt between Timmy’s legs, pushing his knees higher and wider. Timmy grabbed at his thighs to help, and Armie lined himself up.

“You ready?” he asked. “Hard and fast?”

“_Yes_,” Timmy pleaded.

Armie slammed into him like a freight train, and the pleasure-pain surged through Timmy with the same force. He pulled out and slammed back in, his hips smacking against Timmy’s ass. Just when Timmy was about to try to change the angle, Armie did it himself, shoving his palms under Timmy’s hips and pulling him up an inch off the bed so he could nail exactly the right spot.

The sensation exploded across his nerves in a burst of stars and sirens. Timmy tossed his head to the side and lost the capacity for language, crying out in gibberish as Armie dragged his cock across the magic place over and over without respite.

He could feel the orgasm rushing in, and didn’t attempt to hold it back. It crashed over him in a wave, and he screamed, muscles clenching and releasing in a rapid pattern, his cock pulsing intensely. 

Above him, Armie slammed into him one final time and then collapsed on top of him. His breath came in harsh gasps in Timmy’s ear. All Timmy could do was lie there, limp and used, enjoying the weight of Armie on top of him, floating like a cloud.

After a few minutes, Timmy mustered the energy to lift his arms and wrap them around Armie’s back. “You okay?” he whispered.

“Fucking fantastic,” Armie murmured. “You want me to move?”

“No,” Timmy said, tightening his grip.

“Good. I don’t want to.” Armie shifted slightly, and kissed the side of Timmy’s head. “You okay too?”

“Fucking fantastic,” Timmy replied.

Armie snickered.

Timmy wasn’t sure how much time had passed when he opened his eyes. He didn’t even remember closing them, but he thought he must have fallen asleep, because now, instead of being under Armie, he was sprawled on top of him. Armie was no longer inside of him, but he could feel the sticky remnants of their activities on his stomach and between his legs.

Usually he was a little grossed out by that, but tonight it made him feel...satisfied. Smug, almost.

He wasn’t sure what their time had been like the night before, but if it had been anything like this he regretted even more that he couldn’t remember it.

He propped himself up on his forearms and peered down at Armie. They hadn’t closed their blinds, and the moonlight streamed in through the large windows, highlighting the planes of Armie’s face. With a single finger, he traced the fine lines around Armie’s mouth and sighed at the texture of Armie’s scruff.

Armie’s eyes flickered open. He smiled.

“Mmmm,” he said. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Timmy said. “You can go back to sleep.”

“Am I awake?” Armie asked. “Seems to me this is sort of dream-worthy stuff. Might still be asleep.” 

“Dream-worthy?” Timmy said. “Not nightmare, like yesterday morning?”

Armie stilled. “I don’t know,” he said. “Waking up with you was never a hardship, whatever the situation around it. For me, at least.”

Timmy peered down at Armie. His face was blank. He almost looked…

“I didn’t mean…I only meant waking up in a strange bed and not knowing who you had been with,” Timmy said. He laid a hand on Armie’s chest. “Until I knew it was you, it _ was _ a bit of a nightmare.”

Armie’s head swiveled to face Timmy and his features relaxed. “Yeah, I see what you mean. Shit, I was _ so _relieved when you walked out of that bathroom.” He settled his hand on top of Timmy’s and squeezed. 

“And then less relieved when we realized what we had done,” Timmy said, remembering how stressed and on edge Armie had seemed. 

“Well...that was more because of the shock than anything else.” Armie shifted so he was laying on his side. He smiled at Timmy, but his eyes were sad. “And I was worried about you. I’m sorry this sucks so much for you.”

“What?” Timmy frowned. “It doesn’t. I mean, not any more than it does for you.”

“No, it does. It’s worse for you than it is for me. You’re married now. Even if we undid it right away, you’ll have _ been _ married. I ruined your first marriage for you.”

“Come on,” Timmy said, shoving at Armie’s shoulder. “That doesn’t even matter.”

“Maybe it does,” Armie said. “Maybe your first marriage should be with someone you just can’t stand to be apart from. Someone you want in your life and your bed so much that you are willing to promise them forever and believe you mean it. I took that from you.”

Timmy stared at Armie. Once again, he couldn’t quite read the look on Armie’s face. Regret? With something else underneath. He frowned, focusing on what Armie had just said. That somehow _ he _was the one with the worse end of the deal. 

“Well, but you literally _ just _ got out of a marriage. I’m sure the last thing you wanted was to be in another one. You should be free to date a bunch of people and have fun, not...not be shackled to me for however long we’re stuck.”

“Honestly, Tim? I’m okay with it.” Armie leaned forward and placed a kiss on Timmy’s lips. “I promise. Don’t think you’re...I don’t want you thinking that this is a problem for me. You’ve got enough to worry about without concern for _ my _ freedom to be added to your load. I can handle it just fine.” 

“But...this is going to complicate your life,” Timmy said. “I’m just...me. I’m flexible. But you’ve got to explain things to your kids, and to — oh, god — basically _ come out _ to everyone, while _ I _—”

Armie placed a finger over Timmy’s lips, shushing him. He sighed. “Come here.”

He gathered Timmy close and pulled the covers over them. “Go back to sleep. It’s going to be fine. We can worry about all of that in the morning. Including what Papa and Mama Chalamet are going to have to say about it. You think Mama’s going to come at me with her shoe?”

“Oh, _ shit, _ ” Timmy said, his eyes going wide. “I didn’t even _ think _ about my parents. They’re probably freaking the fuck out. Did they call you? Text you?”

“Maybe,” Armie said, stroking his hand down Timmy’s spine. “I haven’t looked at any of my messages. Liz is probably on there and I haven’t felt like dealing just yet. It’ll all still be there tomorrow. And I’m sure they’ve seen the posts. They’ll know you’re okay.”

Timmy’s teeth sank into his lower lip as his stomach churned. His parents would know he was alive, but they would still be worried about whether he was _ okay_, and would probably be hurt he hadn’t called them yet. But Armie was right...it was too late to do anything about it and they’d be just as hurt tomorrow. He’d just have to call them first thing in the morning. His phone might be okay by then, anyway.

As for the rest of what he had said to Armie, about this being more complicated for him than it was for Timmy, it was all true. Maybe he should have taken Brian’s offer to get out now, maybe Armie would rather be free than anything else. Maybe he was being fucking selfish, somehow, instead of standing by Armie like he had thought, and it would be better for Armie if they just undid the marriage. 

Maybe it would be smarter for him to extract himself sooner rather than later for his own protection.

Because in the end...this _ was _ a dream, and he was bound to wake up at some point. He just hoped it wouldn’t kill him when he did.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ninety-seven voicemail messages. And it got worse from there. Over two-hundred text messages, a few dozen on Snapchat...and then, of course, there was Twitter and IG.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was supposed to cover a lot more, and go in a different direction, but the boys just wouldn’t...cooperate. So I yielded the reigns. I’m no longer in control of this story, it is in control of me.
> 
> 100% fiction, unfortunately. Enjoy!

_ Messages_.

Timmy stared at his freshly resurrected phone, beads of sweat breaking out on his forehead. 

Ninety-seven voicemail messages. And it got worse from there. Over two-hundred text messages, a few dozen on Snapchat...and then, of course, there was Twitter and IG. 

He was used to having thousands and thousands of Twitter and IG messages; he barely looked through them because — well, _ time. _ But...his IG post from yesterday, in bed with Armie, had over three _ million _ likes. By far the most any of his posts had ever had. Nearly everyone who followed him must have liked that photo, maybe even some people who _ didn’t _ follow him. 

His thumb hovered over it, swept the air over the screen as if to touch it. There they were, he and Armie, their heads on the pillow together, facing each other and grinning. 

They looked...happy. 

Well, _ he _ had been happy. And Armie wasn’t _ un_happy. In fact, that morning, Armie had said he was happy. Sort of. 

Timmy had woken up as the little spoon, nestled against Armie’s chest. Armie had one hand on his dick, which was half hard, and one massaging his hole. 

“Morning,” Armie had whispered gruffly in his ear. 

“M-morning,” Timmy has gasped, as he regained full consciousness and wave after wave of desire coursed through him. “Fuck.”

“That’s the idea,” Armie murmured, slipping the tip of his finger inside. “You up for it?”

A few minutes later, Armie was pushing into him from behind. This wasn’t the frantic fuck of the night before, with its bruising grip and heart-pounding pace. This was slow and languorous, all soft caresses, delicate kisses, and a deep, potent pleasure that touched the core. 

When they finished, Armie wrapped his arms around Timmy tightly. “Do you know how happy I am that we’re together like this again?” he had murmured, his breath tickling Timmy’s ear. 

Timmy had smiled at the familiar line, but he knew it wasn’t intended as a joke. 

“Yeah,” he had replied, twisting his head to meet Armie’s lips. “Me too.”

So they were both happy, in their own ways. That was something, at least. 

“Does it work?” Armie strode into the sitting room now, towing his suitcase behind him. He set it by the door and gestured at Timmy’s phone. “Good as new?”

“Yeah. I...almost wish it wasn’t.” Timmy shot Armie a sheepish glance. “It’s a little overwhelming.”

“You just gotta roll with it, T.” Armie sank onto the sofa beside Timmy and ruffled his hair. “I bet most of the actual messages — the ones for _ you_, not from insta or whatever — are from people you intend to talk to anyway. You could probably just ignore the whole batch, delete everything, start fresh. If you miss someone, they’ll reach out again.”

“You’re probably right.” Timmy flopped back against the sofa and sighed. “Still, before we do anything else, I should call my parents. And...you should probably call Elizabeth.”

Armie wrinkled his nose. “Do I have to?”

Timmy tapped his phone. “She left me seven voicemails and sent twenty-two texts. So I’m guessing she’s trying to reach you.”

Heaving a sigh, Armie pulled his phone out of his pocket. “All right. Let’s do this. Get the hardest ones out of the way and then we can deal with checking out and getting brunch and worry about the rest later.”

He sat back against the sofa beside Timmy, their shoulders touching, and placed the call to Liz. Timmy dialed his mother. 

“Timothée Hal Chalamet, you’d better start talking and it had better be good,” she said without preamble. Timmy winced at the tone of her voice. 

“Hi Mama,” he said quietly. 

Beside him, Armie held his phone away from his ear. He could hear Liz’s voice loud and clear. She was definitely not happy. He winced again. Armie shot him an apologetic look, squeezed his knee, and then went into the bedroom and closed the door. 

“Well?” Mama said. “Talk. I mean it.”

“Uh...I have some news?” He wasn’t sure why it sounded like a question. “I—“

“Did you really marry him?” she interrupted. 

He sighed. “Yeah.”

“I don’t understand,” she said. “Didn’t he just get divorced? Wasn’t that what you all were doing on this trip, celebrating that? Exactly how long has this been going on between you two? Why didn’t you tell us?”

“It’s hard to explain, Mama.” Timmy felt suddenly tired from her barrage of questions. He rubbed a hand across his forehead and closed his eyes. “It’s complicated.”

He and Armie had decided that morning that, aside from their publicity teams, for now no one was going to know that they had considered undoing the marriage immediately and didn’t intend to stay married forever. As far as their close friends and family were concerned, the message was that they got carried away, but it was what they wanted and they were happy. Armie had also made the point that, since they were sleeping together and didn’t mind each other’s company, they’d probably look married to outside eyes anyway, and it was less headache than answering questions that had no easy answers, such as about the actual nature of their relationship.

“We’re friends who fuck?” Timmy had suggested. 

Armie had frowned. “I guess. And they’ll all want to know, if we enjoy each other _ that _ way in addition to being friends, why we aren’t actually together. Or why we even got married in the first place. Do you want to answer those questions?”

Timmy definitely did not, especially since he didn’t know how to answer them other than to say _ I’m in love with him but he isn’t in love with me_. So they were going to fudge the truth.

Still, he was going to find it hard to lie to Mama.

“Try me,” she said now. 

“Well, we didn’t come out here to get married this weekend. We didn’t even know…” he took a deep breath, “_I _didn’t know that he felt the same way about me as I did about him. But that night, we realized we did, and one thing led to another.”

“One thing led to another, did it?” She sounded skeptical. 

“We got carried away. It wasn’t planned, it just happened. But it’s what we...what I want.” It sounded thin to his own ears. Mama was silent for a moment. 

Then, quietly, she asked, “Are you happy, baby? Just tell me you’re happy.”

“I am,” he said. That, he could say with authority. It was a temporary happiness, but it was still happiness. He had _ Armie_. For a while, at least. That thought sent a shiver of excitement down his spine.

“It’s a difficult road you’ve chosen,” she said. “You know people will judge you for this. They’re going to think you broke up that marriage, took a daddy away from his children.”

“I didn’t,” Timmy said, his stomach sinking. If Mama thought that, then Evelyn was right, and everyone would think it. “I swear, Armie and Elizabeth—” 

“But if you’re happy, then don’t you worry about what people will say. And we’ll do whatever we can to help,” Mama said. “Your sister too. Just tell us what you need from us and you’ve got it.”

“You’re not mad at me?” Timmy bit at his lower lip. He hated it when his parents were mad at him, Mama especially.

“Well…” she paused, a long stretch of silence. “Not mad, baby. Your father and I were surprised that you would take such a step without telling us. And I’m a little sad that I wasn’t there to see it. But no, I’m not mad.”

He slumped in relief. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I know it was...a shock.”

She laughed. “It was more that we were surprised you wouldn’t include us. We were less surprised at...your choice.”

“I should go, Mama,” Timmy said. “We’ve got to check out and get food, and then get to the airport.”

“Okay, baby. Give your man a hug from us, and we expect you to bring him by the house very soon, you got that?”

Timmy hung up the phone and sat in thought, turning over Mama’s words in his head. She had said she wasn’t that surprised at his choice? Did that mean that even Mama had been able to tell he was in love with Armie all this time? _ Shit_, and he really did think he had been hiding it. He shot a glance at the closed bedroom door. He wondered if Liz could tell, too.

As if on cue, the door opened, and Armie entered. He was still on the phone, and he rolled his eyes at Timmy.

“That’s ridiculous,” he was saying. “The kids adore Timmy. They’ll be fine with it, as long as we’re both giving the same message.” A pause. “The message that this is normal and you’re happy for us, and happy to include Timmy in our family.” Another pause. “I already told you—”

He sighed and plopped down next to Timmy on the sofa. _ She’s being difficult_, he mouthed. Then he smiled. He put the phone face down on the arm of the sofa, took Timmy’s chin between his fingers, and leaned in, settling a soft kiss on his lips.

“Did she hang up?” Timmy murmured.

“No, she’s yelling about something,” Armie said. He picked up the phone and listened, nodded, and put it back down. “Still going. Come here.”

Armie guided Timmy to straddle his lap and pulled him in for another kiss, deeper this time. Timmy’s hands came up to frame Armie’s face while Armie’s cupped Timmy’s ass. Their tongues slid together and Timmy shuddered.

When they broke apart a minute later, Timmy rested his forehead against Armie’s shoulder and Armie picked up the phone again. “Hey, Elizabeth? Yeah. I get it, you’re pissed, you don’t have to keep explaining it. Sorry I didn’t warn you, _ not _ sorry I married Timmy, find a way to deal with it, and please don’t bad-mouth me to the kids.” He hung up the phone and tossed it aside. 

“She’s really upset?” Timmy asked. He should have expected it, but he’d always tried to maintain a good relationship with Elizabeth, even while the divorce was in play. 

“She’ll get over it,” Armie said, nipping at Timmy’s jaw. “She’s mainly mad that I didn’t warn her, so that she had to find out from people calling her and asking her about it. She thinks it makes her look bad, and you know how much she cares about how she looks. How did your parents take the news?”

“I only talked to Mama,” Timmy said, angling his head to the right to give Armie better access. He was rewarded by a gentle sucking at the base of his neck. “She’s sad they weren’t included but said to give you a hug and bring you by the house soon.”

“That’s not so bad,” Armie said, tracing his nose along Timmy’s collarbone. “Were they shocked?”

Timmy hesitated. “Surprised, I think she said. That it was so sudden.”

Armie lifted his head and examined Timmy’s face. “All good with the Chalamets, then?”

Timmy nodded. Armie’s lips looked so soft, curved into a concerned smile. Timmy ran a fingertip over them to find out if they were as soft as they looked, and Armie promptly sucked the finger into his mouth. Timmy’s breath caught in his throat. 

It struck him how much he felt this need for Armie again, this sense that if he _ didn’t _keep touching the man, and being touched by him, he might cease to exist, just evaporate into whisper of smoke. It had always been like this; it was why he hadn’t been able to resist the pull those years ago in spite of the fact that Armie was married and he knew it would never last. Over the past couple of years he had successfully shoved it into a box, but now that that box was unlocked again...

“Why is this so _ good_?” he asked, feeling that tell-tale tightening in his belly. 

“This?” Armie asked, letting Timmy pull his finger back and trace his lips once more. “You mean, with you and me?”

“Yeah. It is, isn’t it? Like...better than normal?”

Armie closed his eyes and didn't answer right away. He let his lower lip fall as Timmy continued to dip his finger in and out of Armie’s mouth. Then he pulled Timmy’s hand out of the way, surged forward, and kissed Timmy hard, while grinding his hips upwards. His right hand found its way into the back of Timmy’s pants, one finger sliding down his crease. 

As soon as the finger made contact with his hole, Timmy hissed and jerked away from the touch. 

Armie yanked his hand away. “Sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry, are you okay?” 

“I’m fine,” Timmy reassured him. “A little sore, that’s all.” He blushed, and Armie grinned. 

“Now that’s definitely not surprising. You can fuck me tonight, okay? Give you a little break.”

“Yeah, okay,” Timmy breathed, going half hard at the idea. This was one of the things he loved about being with Armie, his willingness to switch. Timmy generally liked bottoming, but sometimes...he liked it the other way around. 

“In the meantime, we’d better get going,” Armie said. He gave Timmy one more quick kiss and then set him on his feet. “The guys headed down a while ago; they’ll meet us at the restaurant after I check us out.”

It wasn’t until after they had swept through the suite to make sure no one had left anything behind, after they had gone down to check out, and after brunch, that it happened. They had settled the bill at the restaurant and Armie and the others were at the bell stand, retrieving their luggage. Timmy was on his way back from using the restroom when he heard a gasp followed by his name.

“Timothée Chalamet?” The voice was tentative, but brimming with excitement. A fan.

He turned and grinned, almost on autopilot. A woman, about his age, broke away from a group she was with and darted over to him, beaming.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hi, oh my _ god_,” she said. “Wow, I just want to say I really love your work.”

“Thank you,” he said. “What’s your name?”

“Jen,” she said. “I’m Jen. Wow. Is there any chance I could get a photo?”

“Of course,” he said. He waited for her to fumble with her phone, and then crowded in close, threw up a peace sign, and smiled while she snapped a half dozen photos.

“It’s so nice to meet you,” she said. “I...is Armie around? I saw the posts, and—”

He blinked at her. _ Shit, _ he had pretty much forgotten that fans would ask him about Armie now more than ever. What was he supposed to say? He looked around, saw Armie leaning up against the bell stand, watching him. He waved and Armie immediately started over.

Jen let out a soft squeal as he approached. _ I get it, _ he thought, with a wry smile. Armie was looking particularly good that morning, in brown trousers and a black t-shirt that showed off all of his muscles.

“Hey,” he said, when Armie arrived at his side. “This is Jen. She’s a—”

“I’m such a big fan, wow,” she said. “I loved you in _ Sorry to Bother You_, that was…can I get a photo? If it’s not too much trouble.”

“No problem,” Armie said. He repeated the process that Timmy had just gone through, and then he shot a look at Timmy and winked. “Want one with both of us?” he asked her.

“Yes,” she said, nodding. “That would be amazing.”

Now they all three crowded into the frame, one on either side of her. When they were finished, she bounced from one toe to the other for a moment.

“We should go,” Timmy began, waving a hand towards the other guys and their assembled luggage.

“Oh, yeah. I’m really — _ wow _ — so excited to meet you both. Together. Where are you headed next?”

Timmy blanked for a second, and then his stomach sank. _ New York_. He was headed for New York, and Armie was headed for L.A. Separately.

But Armie just took his hand, lacing their fingers together. “Right now, the airport,” he said, “so we’d better run before we miss our flight.”

Jen hugged them both and then dashed back to her friends, who were giggling excitedly. Armie tugged at Timmy’s hand. 

“Come on,” he said. “They’ll be bringing a car around.”

“Armie,” Timmy said, standing his ground. “I just realized...I’m going ho— to New York. And you’re going to L.A.”

“Yeah,” Armie said. “I mean, I guess we need to talk about what’s next. If we’re going to...we should probably live together. Right?” He shot Timmy an anxious look. “When we’re not filming, I mean.”

Timmy swallowed. “Right. Probably in L.A., I guess?”

“Well, my kids…” Armie shrugged. “I’ll need to be there at least part of the time. But we can have a base in New York, too. Split our time? I know how much you love New York.”

“Okay,” Timmy nodded. “I mean, I guess we don’t need to be together _ all _ the time, either. Just enough to make it look like—”

“Sure.” Armie let go of Timmy’s hand and shoved his hands in his pockets. “So for now...I’m supposed to take the kids tomorrow through the weekend, so I’ve got to go to L.A. You could just go home, see your parents and deal with friends and...whatever, and we could meet up next week.”

“No,” Timmy said, without thinking. When Armie looked at him sharply, he paled. “I don’t want...we’re supposed to meet with Brian and Evelyn and stuff.”

“Oh. Well, we could do that through conference call, if we have to.” Armie shrugged.

Timmy thought about going back to New York, to his apartment, alone. He thought about dealing with his friends’ questions, alone. He thought about getting stopped by fans on the street, photographed, asked where Armie was. Alone.

He thought about what Armie had said earlier, about tonight, and his heart sank at the realization that maybe he wouldn’t actually be spending that night with Armie after all.

“Armie,” he said, his heart starting to race, “I can’t...I don’t want to...can we not separate just yet? I won’t know what to say, and I’m just...just—”

“Woah,” Armie said, pulling him in for a hug. He settled a hand on Timmy’s head, pressed it against his chest. “Okay, no problem. I’ll change my ticket. Liz will deal with the kids. It’ll be fine.”

“Really?” Timmy said, already feeling better now that he was wrapped in Armie’s solid embrace. “I mean, no, that’s not right. I can change _ my _ ticket, come to L.A.”

Armie drew back and examined Timmy’s face. “You sure?” he asked. “That would be easier for me, because of the kids and everything. But if you need to—”

“It’s fine, I don’t mind,” Timmy said, relief coursing through him. “Can we do it now? Call and change the flight?”

Armie already had his phone in his hand. “On it,” he said. 

Fifteen minutes later, Timmy had a first class seat on Armie’s flight to L.A., and they were finally loading their luggage into the car.

“I can just buy more clothes,” Timmy said, as they pulled away from the Mandalay. “Or have Mama go to my place and send me some.”

“Actually,” Armie said, eyes darting to the left, “I’ve got a box of some of your shit at my place already. I don’t know what you’ll still want, but most of it is nice.”

“You do?” Timmy asked.

“Yeah, just stuff you had left at various points in time. When we moved, I packed it up. Liz took a couple of things, but I managed to save the rest and...it’s in the back of my closet.” He shrugged. “So maybe there’s stuff in there you can wear too.”

Timmy smiled at Armie. The idea that Armie had saved his neglected things, kept a bit of him safe, gave him a warm, cared-for feeling. Armie smiled back, and then they were somehow mid-kiss before they realized it.

Nick swiveled around in his seat and eyed them both. “I swear to god, if you guys are going to act like this all the way back to California I’m going to knock myself out.”

The flight to L.A. was uneventful. They were able to sweet-talk an older gentleman into swapping seats with Timmy so that he could sit next to his new husband, and then the flight attendant brought everyone in first class champagne so they could toast the couple. It was cute, and Timmy could only imagine how much more fun he’d be having if it were for real.

Back at LAX, they were whisked from the plane in a car and deposited in the private suite terminal, where attendants dealt with things like getting their luggage and hiring their cars while they settled into a comfortable set of rooms and were plied with snacks and drinks. 

Timmy looked around him with wide eyes. “I don’t think I even knew this was here,” he whispered to Armie.

“I’ve got a membership — Liz insisted last year — but I don’t usually use it when it’s just me, only when we were traveling with the kids. I just thought that today, with what’s going on with us, maybe it was smart. Avoid any paps who might be hanging around the main entrance.” Armie shrugged, looking slightly uncomfortable. “It’s pretentious, I know.”

“Pretentious, maybe. But also...I could get used to this.” Tyler sank into a chair and propped his feet on the coffee table. “Too bad it’s a little rich for my blood.”

“Not mine,” Ash said from the bar, where he was mixing himself a drink. “I think I fit in here just fine.”

“As a cocktail waiter, maybe.” Nick smacked Ash on the back of the head and then settled into the other chair. “How long until we’re set to go, do you think?”

“Usually doesn’t take too long,” Armie said. “And we can relax here as long as we like, so there’s no rush.”

He crossed to the sofa and sat on one end, pulling his phone out of his pocket. Timmy hovered to the side, fidgeting with the Luck/Fate token that he had grabbed off of the bedside table and stuck in his pocket on impulse just before they left the suite. 

Armie fiddled with his phone a minute before looking up and catching sight of Timmy. “What are you doing over there?” he asked. He patted the sofa cushion next to him.

Timmy sidled over and sat down. Armie wrapped an arm around him and he relaxed into Armie’s side. He pulled out his own phone and set about _ finally _ sifting through his text messages. 

After a couple of minutes, he snorted a laugh. Armie glanced down at him. “What’s funny?” he asked. 

Without responding, Timmy held up his phone so Armie could see the message that had made him laugh. 

** _Luca: My congratulations. Am I to make a card out to Armie and Timothée or to Oliver and Elio? Also, you are welcome._ **

Armie chuckled. “Tell him thank you, and that we want one of each.”

They let Nick, Ash, and Tyler take the first two cars to arrive, and eventually were left alone in the suite. Timmy was feeling tired again, from multiple late nights in a row and from the plane travel, which always made him anxious and stressed and therefore exhausted. He sank lower and lower on the sofa until he gave up and curled up on his side, his head in Armie’s lap. 

Armie threaded his fingers through Timmy’s hair, and Timmy’s eyelids drooped. He perked up when his phone vibrated in his hand, and he spotted a notification sliding into view. 

**[tchalamet]: armiehammer just posted a photo **

“What did you just post?” Timmy asked, twisting his head to peer up at Armie. Armie just smiled and continued to stroked Timmy’s hair.

With a roll of his eyes, Timmy opened IG and scrolled until he saw the post. He stilled immediately. 

It was a photo of him, from the airplane.

The image was almost a silhouette. The primary source of light was the bright blue skies visible out the airplane window. Timmy was turned mostly away from the camera, peering out the window, his chin propped on his fist. He was wearing his big silver headphones and his hair sprung out around them in all directions. Part of his face was visible, and he was smiling softly. 

The caption read: **Taking him home.** ❤️

Timmy’s eyes prickled with moisture, and he blinked several times, willing the sudden tears away. 

“When did you take that?” he asked quietly. 

“On my way back from the bathroom,” Armie said. “I saw you there and just...I wanted to capture it. Then I was looking at it and thought, you posted something about us, I should too. You think it’s okay?”

His fingers trailed from Timmy’s scalp to trace the shell of his ear and then slide down his neck. 

“It’s good,” Timmy said, swallowing past the lump in his throat. “Sends the right message. Really sells the...romance.”

Armie’s hand paused briefly before it continued its path over Timmy’s shoulder and down his arm, where it came to rest just above his elbow. 

“Good,” he said. “That’s what I was trying to do.”

Timmy reached up and placed his hand over Armie’s. They were quiet a moment. Timmy listened to the sound of their breathing in the otherwise insulated atmosphere of the suite. The air felt heavy and full. He wanted to say something else, but he wasn’t sure exactly what. 

Just as he was about to make a joke about himself not even noticing that Armie was taking that photo, there was a knock on the door. He pushed himself into a sitting position and Armie’s hand fell away. 

“Come in,” Armie called. 

The door opened, and one of their attendants entered. “Your final car has arrived, Mr. Hammer,” he said. 

“Great, thank you.” He got to his feet and held out a hand to Timmy. “Let’s go home.”

Timmy took Armie’s hand and let himself be pulled to his feet. 

_ Home_. 

He loved the sound of that, but was a little terrified by it as well. Being in the bubble of Vegas had been sort of nice, since they could mostly put off contact with the outside world, enjoy the fact that they were able to be together again, and ignore any real questions about what this was going to _ look _ like between them on a daily basis. 

Because they had talked about the message they were sending to the outside world...but not the message they’d be sending to each other. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Timmy turned the keys and card over in his hands, and then clenched his fist around them, feeling the teeth bite into his palm. This was real, then. He was going to live here, at least part time. His stomach flipped once, and then a second time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For some reason, this one gave me a bit of trouble, until I stopped fighting them and let them have their way. Which was this. I take zero responsibility for this chapter, these two have taken on a life of their own.
> 
> 100% fiction, of course.
> 
> Enjoy...

Armie’s condo had a spectacular view of the Los Angeles skyline. Timmy rested his suitcase by the door and strolled towards the large bay windows, drawn to the sight of the city in the hazy late afternoon sunshine. 

He’d always liked L.A., moreso since that time he had lived here — at Armie and Elizabeth’s house — for a couple of months while filming _ Beautiful Boy. _ He was a diehard New Yorker, but the sun and smog and palm tree-lined drives of this city also called to him. Good thing, since for the foreseeable future, he would be spending a lot of time here. 

“Home sweet home,” Armie said from beside him, stretching his arms over his head and groaning softly. 

“It’s so quiet,” Timmy said. “Vegas was like constant noise, and if I had gone back to New York I would have been in the middle of more noise. This is like...a relief.” He closed his eyes, feeling the calm wash over him. 

“It won’t be quiet for long,” Armie said. Timmy opened his eyes and caught Armie’s smirk. “When I pick up the kids tomorrow, it’ll be a zoo. There’s only two of them but sometimes it feels like they multiply.”

Timmy laughed, thinking of seeing Harper and Ford again. Hops was close to six now, and Fordy was three and a half, and they were as adorable as ever. 

“I can only imagine,” he said. “Man, I can't wait to see them. It’s been a while.”

Armie looked relieved at Timmy’s words. Then he clapped his hands together. “Okay, first things first...come with me.”

He returned to the front door and rummaged around in a bin on the entry table. Timmy wondered what Armie was up to. 

“Aha,” Armie said. “And aha, and...aha.” He turned back to Timmy triumphantly and held up three items before pressing them into Timmy’s hands. “Key to the condo, key card to the front entrance, mailbox key.”

Timmy turned the keys and card over in his hands, and then clenched his fist around them, feeling the teeth bite into his palm. This was real, then. He was going to live here, at least part time. His stomach flipped once, and then a second time. 

“Thanks,” he said. 

“Now...let’s deal with this stuff.” Armie picked up both suitcases and headed towards the bedrooms. Timmy followed. 

He looked around with interest once they crossed the threshold into the master. He’d been in the condo before, but never in here. Last time he had come to town, he had slept two nights in Harper’s pink ruffly bed in the kids’ room, dangling his big feet off the end of the bed and feeling like a giant in a fairy house. 

This room was a little different from the rest of the condo, which was decorated in bright yellows with cream accents. Leftover from when Liz lived here, before they bought that mansion in Hancock Park. 

But in here, the sunny French country look gave way to deep blues and greys, with dark wood and smooth lines. The California King was covered in a blue spread with a fluffy grey throw folded at the foot. This was a space that screamed _ Armie _ from every corner. It was comfortable, strong, and soft. 

Framed photos crowded every surface. Timmy scanned them, seeing a dozen of the kids at various ages as well as a couple of Armie with the guys. He was surprised to see more than a couple of him...him by himself, a few of him and Armie doing promo, and one candid of them laughing at a pub in London. He felt a lump form in his throat, knowing that Armie had chosen these to display. 

When Timmy looked up from his perusal, Armie had tossed both suitcases into the corner and was watching him. 

“I love that one,” Timmy said, pointing to the photo in the pub. “That was a great night.”

Armie grinned. “It was. There’s nothing recent, though. We need to take more photos.” He cleared his throat and waved at a door on the far wall. “The closet is a walk-in. It’s pretty full, but I can clear out some space, put some things in storage if necessary. And some drawers, too.” He ran a hand along the cherrywood dresser beside him. 

“That’s fine,” Timmy said. “I don’t know how much I’ll...I guess I have to figure out what to ship out here and what to leave in New York.”

“Bathroom is through there,” Armie said. “I think I have an extra toothbrush somewhere, and I haven’t filled up all the drawers in there, so it shouldn’t be an issue.”

“Seriously, you don’t have to make a big deal.” Timmy rubbed a hand on the back of his neck. “I’ll just fit into whatever space you have. I don’t want you to rearrange your life just because I’m here for a little while.”

“It’s not really rearranging,” Armie said. “More...cleaning out. I should do it anyway. And I don’t want you to feel like a guest. I want you to feel like this is your place, too. Because it is. For a little while, anyway, like you said.”

Timmy nodded. “Yeah, okay. I appreciate that.” 

Armie shot a glance at the clock on the wall. “Are you hungry? It’s early yet for dinner, but we didn’t really have lunch because of the flight.”

“Not really hungry yet,” Timmy said. 

“Yeah, me neither.” 

They stood looking at each other for a moment, the sudden awkwardness settling into the grooves in the hardwood floor and fizzing around them in the air. 

Now that they were here, back in the real world...what were they supposed to do? The easy rhythm they had slipped into seemed to have evaporated, and Timmy felt like if he said something or moved at all, he’d find that they were playing two different songs. 

If he were back home, he would flop down on his sofa and power up his XBox or tune in to something dumb on television. Crack open a beer. Smoke a joint, and then...call Armie, of course. 

He giggled at the absurd thought. Armie raised an eyebrow. 

“Something amusing?” he asked. 

“I was just feeling like I wasn’t sure what we should do next. And then I thought that if I was home — I mean, back in New York — I’d play some video games or watch stupid television and smoke a joint, and then I’d probably call you.”

Armie grinned, his teeth flashing white in a sudden, blinding expression of glee. “How convenient that I’m right in the same room, then. And..” He bounded over to the bedside table, rummaged around in the drawer, and came up with a box of rolling papers and a small tin. “...I just so happen to have video games, television, and weed.”

“Gimme.” Timmy held out his hands for the items as if they were lifesaving medicine. 

Maybe they were, because fifteen minutes later, they were lounging on the sofa, passing a spliff back and forth, the window open behind them and the television tuned to some trashy 80s sci-fi movie. As the badly costumed radioactive swamp thing thumped around the tiny midwestern town terrorizing asshole teenagers, and as the pungent smoke swirled around them, Timmy melted into the sofa cushions. The anxiety of the past couple of days felt like a distant memory. 

What was it that he had he been worried about? Sitting here, enveloped in a comfortable warm haze, he couldn’t remember. Every time Armie made a snarky comment about the script or the not-so-special effects, every time he laughed at Timmy’s jokes, every time they shot each other a look and started giggling, Timmy felt the glow that he always felt when he and Armie were together. 

_ The best part of this whole marriage thing, _ he thought, _ is this. _

“Is what?” Armie asked. 

_ Shit_, had he said that out loud?

“Um. This, just…” The words started to tumble out before he could stop them, and he drew his knees up and hugged them to his chest in defense. Fucking weed. “We haven’t gotten to hang out, like, without a time limit or _ rules _about who could know, since the promo tour. And now it’s the fucking default. We get to do this all the time. I don’t have to go home.”

“You are home,” Armie said. He reached out and caught Timmy’s ankles, pulling them towards him and settling them in his lap. As he spoke, he began to massage Timmy’s feet absent-mindedly. “But I know what you mean. Usually I’ve got one eye on the clock and one—“

“Looking over your shoulder?” Timmy leaned back against the arm of the sofa and closed his eyes. He could feel himself drifting. 

“Exactly. Now...we don’t have to.” Armie dug his thumb into Timmy’s left arch and Timmy groaned. 

“Fuck, you were always so good at that,” he said, opening one eye to find Armie watching him. “Why did you stop? Don’t stop.”

“You’re too relaxed,” Armie said. “You’re going to fall asleep.”

“No, I’m not.”

“You might.” Armie ran his index finger up the inside of Timmy’s foot, and Timmy gasped, attempting to yank his foot away at the sudden tickling sensation. Armie held on tight, and Timmy tensed. 

“Wait,” he said. 

Armie ran his finger up the arch again, and then a third time, as a Timmy valiantly tried to squirm away. 

“Wake up,” Armie said. 

“I’m awake, I’m awake, I’m—“

Without warning, Armie grabbed Timmy above the knees and yanked, and suddenly he was in Armie’s lap. He threw his arms across his stomach, anticipating an attack, but instead Armie kissed him, taking him by surprise. Long lines of liquid warmth extended outward in all directions from low in his belly, and before he could think, he was winding his arms around Armie’s neck and kissing back. 

The kissing went on for a while, in a lazy, unhurried way. Timmy felt like the world was on pause; he could take his time to explore Armie’s mouth, poke at his teeth, play with his tongue. He could run his nose along Armie’s jawline, rub his cheek along the soft stubble and lick at his lips delicately. As they kissed, he realized that the world wasn’t actually on pause, but that this was another example of how they finally had _ time _ . There was no rush, because for the time being, this was what they were expected to be doing. They were married. The world _ wanted _ them to be kissing.

Eventually, Armie’s phone buzzed, rattling on the coffee table.

“I’m not going to answer that,” Armie murmured, his breath ghosting over Timmy’s lips.

“Good,” Timmy said.

Then Timmy’s phone joined the chorus, and they pulled apart and sighed in unison.

Armie glanced over. “Evelyn,” he said. “I bet yours is—”

“Brian,” Timmy confirmed, with a look. “How much you want to bet they just got off the phone with each other?”

Both phones stopped. Timmy watched them, holding his breath. When they began to ring again, at the same time, he groaned.

“Let’s get rid of them,” Armie said. “They’ll just keep calling.”

Armie reached over and snagged both devices, handing Timmy his. Timmy slid off of Armie’s lap and answered the call.

“Hi, Brian,” Timmy said, while Armie spoke to Evelyn.

“Good,” Brian said. “Listen, are you in New York or LA right now?”

“LA,” Timmy said. “I decided to come home with Armie. We figured—”

“That’s fine. I’ll be there in the morning, then. We’ve got a meeting with Armie’s team at ten, at Nicole and Evelyn’s offices.” Brian didn’t wait for Timmy to respond. “We’ve come up with a game plan so it’s just a matter of making sure we’re all on the same page.”

Timmy wondered what the plan was. Would there be orchestrated social media posting? Would he have to turn his passwords over to someone else and be surprised at what showed up? He had done that once before and hadn’t loved the result. The idea of someone else being in control of what he presented to the world was...anxiety-inducing. 

Then he wondered if they were going to have a set schedule of things to _ do _ in order to show their “love” to the world. His stomach twisted at the thought. Considering how deep his feelings for Armie truly ran, it might kill him to pretend to pretend and then come home and have to pretend again in a different way.

“Timmy?” Brian was calling his name. 

“Sorry. Yeah, ten tomorrow. That should be...fine?” He glanced at Armie, who was watching him and nodding. “Ten works for us.”

There was a beat. “Are you with him now?”

“Yeah.” 

“He should be getting a call from Evelyn too, but you can pass along the message.”

“He’s on the phone with Evelyn already,” Timmy said. Armie rolled his eyes and made a talking-too-much motion with his hand, and Timmy snickered. 

“Good. I’ll see you tomorrow, then, and we’ll set everything in motion.” Brian paused. “Don’t worry, kid. I’ve got your back, so if you change your mind and decide you want a different outcome here...whatever that is...just tell me, okay?”

Timmy smiled at the clear affection in Brian’s tone. “Thanks, Brian. I appreciate that.”

They said goodbye just as Armie was hanging up as well.

“So, any guesses as to what hoops they’ll want us to jump through?” Armie asked.

Timmy shrugged. “Did Evelyn tell you anything?”

“Not really. She said they had a strategy and that she thought this was actually going to help and not hurt both of our careers when they were done. That’s...promising.” He poked at Timmy’s side. “Maybe there will be more than one silver lining to being stuck with me for a while.”

“Or to being stuck with me,” Timmy said. “I just hope they don’t want us to do anything too ridiculous. I mean…” He chewed on his bottom lip. “We do have to come back from this eventually, right?”

“Right,” Armie said. “Well, we can always say no. I mean, ultimately, what we do is up to us. So...can we agree to something, right here and right now?”

“What?” Timmy asked.

“Can we agree that we’ll be totally honest with each other? If there’s something that doesn’t feel right, or if you change your mind and want out right away—”

“I won’t change my mind, come on,” Timmy said, and then silently cursed the weed again for loosening his lips.

“I’m just saying _ if _ you do...if either of us does, we tell each other. Don’t worry about how it will affect me, just tell me what you need. And I’ll do the same.” Armie’s face had lost all amusement. He frowned, the small lines around his mouth becoming more pronounced. Timmy just barely resisted the urge to trace them with his finger and focused on Armie’s eyes instead.

“Be honest. Got it,” Timmy said. He knew he was never going to be able to keep that promise, not totally, but what else was he supposed to say? He could be honest about most things, just not about what he really wanted.

Armie’s face relaxed back into a smile. “Okay. Good. Now, I’m starving. You hungry yet?” Timmy’s stomach let out a loud growl, and Armie laughed. “That’s a yes. Come on, let’s see if I have anything we can make or if we have to order in.”

Timmy followed Armie through the dining room and into the well-appointed kitchen. Armie pulled open the refrigerator and rummaged around for a minute. Timmy slid onto one of the high stools to watch.

“Aha,” Armie said. He emerged with a brick of cheese and a stick of butter. “I can make grilled cheese. And I might have...” he disappeared again, and then triumphantly appeared once more, holding an item aloft. “With _ bacon_.” He set the items on the counter, and opened the freezer. “Oh, and ice cream.”

“On the grilled cheese?” Timmy teased. “I’ve never had it like that before. Seems like the ice cream would melt, since the cheese does.”

“No, I mean for desse—” Armie turned towards Timmy and then narrowed his eyes. “Very funny.”

He picked up a dish towel and snapped it at Timmy’s fingers. Tim snatched his hands away and grinned. 

Watching Armie cook was like watching a ballet. He moved gracefully between the prep and the stove, timing everything perfectly — when to drop the bacon onto the skillet so it immediately sizzled, when to assemble the sandwiches, when to pull a plate from the cabinet with one hand while shaking the pan with the other. 

He hummed softly to himself as he worked, and after a moment Timmy recognized an old jazz standard. Before long, the kitchen was filled with the rich scents of bacon, butter, and toasted bread. Timmy’s mouth watered. 

Armie shut off the stove and placed a plate piled with three gooey sandwiches in front of Timmy. The bread was perfectly bronzed, cheese oozed from the edges, and the bacon poked out at the corners. 

“God, those look amazing,” he said. 

“Have one, see what you think,” Armie said, nudging the plate closer. 

Timmy picked up one of the sandwiches, passing it back and forth between his hands as the butter burned his fingers. He took a bite, his teeth crunching through the toasted bread and then sinking into the cheese.

It was heaven. The cheese coated his tongue as the bacon crumbled around it, and he let out a moan. 

“Good?” Armie asked with a grin. 

“This is the best grilled cheese sandwich I’ve ever had,” Timmy said honestly. “Did you put mustard on this?”

“A little,” Armie admitted. He came around the side of the island and hopped onto the stool next to Timmy. With a smirk, he leaned in and took a giant bite out of the sandwich in Timmy’s hand. 

“Hey,” Timmy complained, pulling the sandwich away. 

“You can share,” Armie said. “We’re married now, after all.” He picked up a second sandwich and broke off a bite, the cheese stretching into gooey strings. Then he held the bite up. “Open wide.”

Timmy obeyed, and Armie dropped the bite into his mouth. He giggled, then broke off a bite of his own sandwich and fed it to Armie. Armie stuck his tongue out and licked at Timmy’s fingers, and he giggled again. He felt a second wave of the weed high settling into his mind-gaps and let the sensation smooth out the edges and narrow his focus to his senses. Each brush of Armie’s lips on his fingers sent cracklings of electricity through his nerves, each taste of Armie’s skin on his tongue was a promise of more to come. 

They continued to feed each other the sandwiches until only one bite was left, in Armie’s hand. Timmy waited, but Armie brought it to his own mouth. 

“Woah,” Timmy said. Armie paused, raised a playful eyebrow. “That’s mine.”

“Who says?” Armie asked. 

“It’s the last bite.”

“And I cooked it.”

“Yeah, but…” Timmy licked his lips. He wanted Armie’s fingers over his lips one more time. It felt vitally important. He searched for an argument. “Don’t you want to feed your husband before he wastes away to nothing?”

Armie rolled his eyes. “You’re not in danger of wasting away to nothing.” But he placed the bite on Timmy’s tongue. “Happy?”

“Yes, ank oo,” Timmy said around the cheese. As he swallowed the last bite of salty perfection, the words he had spoken echoed in his head. He snickered. 

“Okay, now what’s funny?” Armie asked. 

Timmy started giggling, and the giggles turned into laughter. He could already tell this was going to be one of those things where the laughter would be in control. “_Husband_,” he finally managed. “I’m your fucking _ husband_. What the actual fuck, Armie?”

Armie blinked at him, and the dumbfounded look on his face, as though the reality of it was just hitting him as well, was too much for Timmy. He threw his head back and yowled, falling off the stool and crashing to the floor. 

“Shit, are you okay?” Armie slid to his knees beside Timmy, reaching out and grabbing his shoulders. “Did you hit your head?”

Timmy shook his head no, but couldn’t answer. The laughter had become its own thing at that point, growing limbs and spreading out all around him. He clutched his stomach and tries to breathe, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes. 

He caught a glimpse of Armie’s face just as it slid from concern to amusement, and before he knew it, Armie was laughing too, big belly laughs that seemed to shake the kitchen. He collapsed to the floor beside Timmy and curled around him and they both gave in to the mirth. 

Eventually, Timmy let out a huge sigh and felt the laughter finally subside. Armie echoed the sigh and they relaxed onto their backs on the hardwood floor, catching their breaths. 

“See?” Armie said, after a few minutes. “It’s not so bad. Could be good, even.”

“What?” Tim asked. 

Armie turned his head to the side to face Timmy. “Being married. We can hang out, fuck whenever we want. Go to events together and not be bored for once...remember promo? It’ll be like that.” 

“Sounds good,” Timmy said. “Especially the part about fucking whenever we want.” He rolled on top of Armie and smiled down at him, threading his hands up into Armie’s hair. “This morning you said I could top tonight. You still want me to?”

“I want you to anytime you feel like it,” Armie said. He ran his hands from Timmy’s back down to his hips, and grinned when Timmy shivered. “Take me to bed.”

“Now?” Timmy said. He couldn’t resist placing a kiss on Armie’s chin. “It’s early.”

“So?”

“So...you’ll fall asleep, and then we’ll wake up in the middle of the night.” Another kiss, this time to Armie’s left cheek. 

“I won’t fall asleep.”

“You will.”

Armie shook his head emphatically. “Tim, my kids are coming tomorrow, and will be here the rest of the week. If you think I’m going to do _ anything _ for the next twelve hours besides find seventeen different ways to make you scream, you’re not half as smart as you look.“

Timmy blinked down at Armie. “Oh,” he said. “Seventeen?”

“Maybe twenty.”

Timmy licked his lips. Then he rolled to his feet. 

“Come on. We’d better get started, then.”

He took off for the bedroom, laughing as he heard Armie scrambling up with a muttered _ fuck_. He was still laughing when he was tackled onto the massive bed.

If this was married life, he'd take it.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Timmy entered the conference room at the Relevant offices the next morning, he felt like he was in some sort of a fog.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote it, you get it.
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> 100% fiction, of course.

When Timmy entered the conference room at the Relevant offices the next morning, he felt like he was in some sort of a fog. The secretary asked if she could get them anything to drink, and Armie put in an order for coffee for both of them before the question even penetrated Timmy’s fuzzy brain. 

Armie had kept to his word the night before, and had done his best to — creatively — keep Timmy awake and desperate for most of the hours they should have been asleep. They did manage a nap as the sun rose, and Timmy had woken to his alarm with Armie curled around him, snoring loudly into his neck. He had snoozed the alarm and burrowed into the warmth of the solid body that blanketed him, unwilling to leave that embrace before he was absolutely forced to.

The alarm was persistent, however, and a shower only partially helped the waking process, since they spent most of it plastered together, kissing and nurturing this haze of insistent desire. Their lips were already swollen, Timmy’s cheeks and chin were already sensitive from Armie’s stubble, but it seemed like there was a web drawing them together, snapping them back when they were too many steps apart. 

Timmy couldn’t explain it. He could explain _ his _part in it, of course...he always wanted Armie. Had always, would always. Now that he had access and permission it was going to be all the harder to hold back. But for Armie...it was probably that it was new, and Armie was enjoying the way they had always seemed to ignite each other. Timmy just prayed that Armie’s current interest in him lasted the length of the marriage, and that he wouldn’t get bored and leave Timmy pushed to the side, yearning from a distance. 

Whatever it was, they had stayed...connected...since the night before. Armie rested a hand on Timmy’s knee in the car, they walked into the firm with arms brushing, and sat beside each other at the polished mahogany conference table, Timmy’s right foot resting against Armie’s left. 

“Hey, you okay?” Armie asked, once the secretary had closed the door, leaving them alone. 

“Yeah, fine,” Timmy said. He smiled at the concern he saw in Armie’s eyes, the lines around his mouth. With a gentle finger, he traced those lines. “Good, actually, just tired.”

Armie’s features relaxed, and he kissed the tip of Timmy’s finger. “I’m sorry I didn’t let you get much sleep.”

“I’m not,” Timmy said. “But I definitely could use another nap at some point. Don’t put me in charge of any heavy machinery.”

Armie chuckled softly. “Noted. After this, I can bring you home and you can get that nap in.”

“What about you?” Timmy asked. He shifted closer to Armie, to the edge of his own chair. What he’d really like, he thought, was to climb into Armie’s lap, rest his head on a broad shoulder, and close his eyes right here. 

“I’ve got to run to the grocery store. I need to replenish supplies with the kids coming.”

“I can come with you,” Timmy said. 

Armie shook his head. “You don’t have to.” 

The door opened before Timmy could respond, and they turned to face a parade of people who were entering the room, all talking at once. Evelyn was first, followed by Nicole, Brian, and the secretary with the promised coffee. 

There were handshakes and hellos all around, and once they were all resettled — with Timmy and Armie on one side and the team on the other — Brian spoke first. 

“I guess we should say congratulations, first of all,” he said, with a smirk. “You’re both the essence of the blushing bride. How is married life so far?”

Considering Timmy had just been thinking the night before that it was just fine, he still wasn’t sure how to answer and shot a look at Armie, who was rolling his eyes and grinning. 

“If we wanted to be mocked we could have done this over the phone,” he said. “And married life is just fine, thank you.”

“We have a lot to talk about,” Evelyn said, straight to business, as usual. “First and foremost is how long this union will need to last. We were thinking a year should do it. Give people enough time to get bored with the _ idea _ of you married and forget the timing.”

_ A year. _He’d have a full year with Armie. He wished he could negotiate for longer, but a year was a gift. 

“Sounds okay,” Armie said. “You think a year is enough?”

“Actually, I pushed for three, but Brian held firm on one.” Evelyn sighed. 

_Three? He could have had three?_ _Damn it, Brian. _Timmy hunched his shoulders. Could he maybe _say_ that three was okay? Or would that sound too eager?

“Well, we don’t want either of you to be roped into this and restricted from pursuing other...things...any longer than possible,” Brian said. He raised a brow at Timmy. “In fact, the year term is just a suggestion. If either of you wants it to be shorter, or changes your mind at any time, we just have to address it.”

“And if you change your mind and want to extend it, we just have to address it,” Nicole put in.

Armie turned to Timmy. “I’m good with a year,” he said. “It’s up to you.”

Timmy swallowed. “A year is fine,” he said. 

Armie leaned closer. “You sure? You seem—“

“I’m sure.” Timmy bumped his shoulder against Armie’s. “I mean, I guess I can put up with you for that long. If you can put up with me.”

Armie bumped him back and then turned back to the team, who were looking back and forth between them like they were a tennis match. “Okay, so a year. That was easy. What’s next?”

Nicole smiled. “Well, that’s the fun part,” she said. “We’ve taken a look at your schedules and commitments for the next year and have come up with some ideas for opportunities to present yourselves as a couple madly in love.”

She clicked on a remote that had been hidden in her hand, and a screen on the closest side wall came to life. She tapped on her tablet screen, and a two-column table appeared. One side was labeled “**Armie** ” and one “ **Timothée**.”

Timmy scanned the table. According to this, they had a busy year ahead. He was about to head into promo for _ Dune_, which was releasing in December. There were a couple festival appearances, but it was mostly premieres starting in November, with a whole slate of talk show appearances set for December right before the release. 

Meanwhile, during most of September and October, he was shooting with Tarantino in South Dakota. He had some space in his schedule in January and February for awards season, and in March he was headed for Budapest, Germany, and Rome to work with Nolan on a psychological thriller. His summer was open, but he was working on getting a meeting with Paul Thomas Anderson for a new project filming then. 

He mostly knew about his own schedule, but Armie’s was less familiar to him. Armie had _ Rebecca _ and _ Death on the Nile _ promo all fall, with talk show appearances for both starting in October. He was headed into _ The Man From U.N.C.L.E _ sequel, filming all over Europe, in the spring. He also had one more project, a short film he had directed last winter, that was showing at a handful of festivals in September and October, starting with Toronto. 

He looked over the overlapping obligations and cringed. “Shit,” he said. “We are fucking busy.”

“You are,” Brian said, a little smugly. “Both of you. And you’re likely to get busier. So really, you won’t have to worry about long stretches of time to navigate this relationship.”

That didn’t make Timmy feel better. It made him feel worse. What good was being married to Armie temporarily if they never saw each other?

“Here’s what we’re thinking,” Nicole said. A red laser pointer appeared on the screen. “Armie is supposed to be at TIFF on September 12th for the premiere of _ Dozens and Dozens_. Timmy, you’re not reporting to Tarantino until the 15th. So we start there. You’ll go to TIFF with Armie for his film, and that will be your first official appearance as a couple.”

Armie snickered, and Timmy shot him a look. “What?”

“I’m just appreciating the irony of that,” Armie said. “I mean, it was TIFF two years ago where we got in trouble for acting too much like a couple. And now…” He shrugged. “Seems poetic.”

Timmy smiled, remembering the dueling IG stories. Shit, they must have been crazy to have posted those, especially after that photo of them hugging had been leaked, but it was fun. He’d do it again — and get yelled at by Brian — in a heartbeat. 

“Right. I’m glad you’re amused,” Evelyn said drily, but she was smiling, too. “Next, we’re making the rounds and trying to get you two on air together shortly after that. I’m frankly hoping for _ Ellen_, but we’ll see. Colbert would be good, too. We’ll have to work around your shooting, Timmy, and your promo, Armie, which is why it’ll be a bitch. But if we can get you on together, you can get yourself out there to the general public in advance of all of your separate appearances.”

Nicole took over once more. “Meanwhile, we’ll want you two photographed visiting each other and out and about. We thought maybe once or twice with the kids—“

“No,” Timmy said, just as Armie said, “Absolutely not.”

They exchanged a glance, and Armie reached a hand over to Timmy’s thigh and squeezed once. _ Thank you_, was the message Timmy heard. 

“Leave my kids out of it. I’ll post something on IG, something _ I can control_, if I have to, but no way are you arranging a pap walk with my fucking children.” Armie’s voice was firm. “Come on, Evelyn, you fucking know better.”

“Told you,” Brian said. “That’s fine. And we aren’t talking about a huge number of these, anyway. Just some airport shots, out for coffee, at dinner. We can plant some fan photos, too.”

“And speaking of Instagram,” Nicole said, “we need to talk about how you want to arrange your social media. If you want to have us post and like and comment for you, or whether you’d rather handle that yourselves.”

“Ourselves,” Timmy said immediately. 

“Yeah, let us deal with that,” Armie agreed. 

“You’ve been doing a good job already, actually,” Evelyn said. “Very convincing, very adorable, not over the top, in keeping with your current online identities.”

Armie snorted. Timmy glanced at him curiously, and he just shook his head. 

“Okay,” said Brian, “you’ll handle your social media, we’ll keep an eye on it and let you know if anything is problematic. In the meantime, Nicole will tell you the other opportunities with see in your schedule for the fall.”

Timmy’s head began to swim as Nicole talked about festivals, premieres, pap walks, and appearances. He downed his now lukewarm coffee, hoping that the caffeine would clear the fog away and help him to concentrate. 

After about ten minutes, he cleared his throat. Nicole stopped mid-sentence, and they all turned to look at him. 

He shrugged. “Can we just...I’m sorry, but this is a lot of information all at once, and I’m never going to remember it. Can you all just send us a proposed schedule, and we’ll look at it and get back to you with suggestions or changes?” 

Armie smiled at Timmy and rested a hand on his back. It traveled up to his neck, where strong fingers massaged the tense tendons there. 

“I agree,” he said. “It sounds fine, overall. It also sounds like...I’m not actually sure we need to _ plan _ everything in this much deliberate detail. I mean, Timmy and I are actually pretty glad to have an excuse to spend time together. What if we just do everything in our power to meet up with each other and spend time together whenever we can, especially for events like red carpets? You can help us coordinate those schedules. We can document it periodically on social media. And then you tell us about any appearances or...if you’re feeling a need for us to do a pap walk.”

Evelyn, Nicole, and Brian exchanged a look. Then Brian nodded. 

“Of course,” he said. “The main thing is that when you two are in public, you need to look like a couple. A newlywed couple.”

“We can manage that,” Armie said. Timmy stifled a giggle, thinking about the previous night, and then prayed he wouldn’t flush red. Armie’s hand settled on his thigh again. 

“Yes, I expect you can. Now, there’s one more thing we need to address before we can adjourn.” Brian set a folder on the table and pushed it toward them. “We’ll need to get this signed.”

Armie flipped the folder open and they both leaned forward. The words “Post-Marital Agreement” were emblazoned at the top. Carefully numbered paragraphs laid out legal-sounding provisions below. Armie flipped through the pages. 

_ Post-Marital Agreement? _ Timmy went cold. What was this? He was about to ask, when Armie closed the folder with a snap. 

“Good,” he said. “But not today. I’m going to want lawyers to look at this. One for each of us, and we may want to make some changes.”

“Naturally,” Brian agreed. 

“Wait, what?” Timmy grabbed Armie’s sleeve. “A post-marital agreement? What the hell is that?”

He looked to Armie, but Brian was the one who answered. “It’s a document laying out division of assets in the event the marriage should end,” he explained. “Kind of like a pre-nup, but negotiated and signed after the marriage takes place instead of before. We can’t do a pre-nup here, even if we were willing to pretend it was in place before you married, because it wouldn't make sense with the narrative. You supposedly learned you felt the same way about each other and got married on impulse. A pre-nup suggests a plan.”

“But why do we need it?” Timmy asked. “Won’t it make it look like the whole marriage is a sham, like we were always planning a divorce, if we sign something like this now?”

The idea made him sick to his stomach. To see it in black and white, the plan for separation and divorce. He could deal with the idea — in the abstract — that in a year this would be over. But he didn’t want it in writing.

“Not at all,” Brian said. “It’s essentially the same as a pre-nup, though courts aren’t required to enforce it, they usually will. It’s to protect you.”

“I don’t need that,” Timmy said adamantly. “I don’t need protection from Armie.”

“Timmy,” Armie said, “it’s actually a good idea. It protects us both.”

Timmy turned to Armie, his heart sinking. “You think I want your money?” he asked. “No. I swear, I have no intention of—“

“Guys, can you leave us for a minute?” Armie interrupted, grabbing Timmy’s hand. “Just for a minute.”

Evelyn, Nicole, and Brian cleared the room and closed the door behind them. As soon as they were gone, Armie swiveled his chair to face Timmy and grabbed his other hand as well. 

“First of all,” he said, “I don’t think you want my money.”

“I don’t,” Timmy said, shaking his head so hard his curls swung around his face. “I’m not going to ask for anything.”

“But it’s not just about my money,” Armie said. “It’s about yours, and protecting yourself.”

“I don’t need a..._ legal _ agreement to know you’re not going to take advantage of me. I trust you. Don’t you trust me?” If Armie didn’t trust him...if, despite what he had said, he thought there was a chance Timmy might try to milk their divorce, well...he didn’t know what to do with that. 

“Of course I trust you.” Armie let go of one of Tim’s hands and cupped his cheek. He smiled. “Don’t panic. This is actually a good thing. Can you let me explain without worrying about whether we trust each other?”

After a beat, Timmy nodded. Even the simple contact of Armie’s palm to his skin helped him to feel less like things were spinning. 

“Okay.” Armie leaned in and kissed Timmy softly, which settled him even more. “You trust me, so trust me on this. I just went through a totally nasty divorce that took forever because we didn’t have one of these things. We had to wait until the ten year anniversary to even have a hope of sorting things out in a way that wouldn’t destroy us both. What this document does is give the court a rational basis to do what _ we _ want, instead of what _ it _ wants.”

“What do we want?” Timmy asked. 

“Well...status quo, probably. I’d imagine this document specifies that any assets we each owned before the marriage continue to be owned separately, and that any assets either of us accumulates during the marriage remain separate as well.”

“And we can't just do that?”

Armie shrugged. “California is funny about property division in divorce. The trouble is that you’re probably going to make more than I am during this year, and I don’t want a court to tell you to hand me half.”

“Oh,” Timmy said. “I guess that makes sense. It won’t look like we’re planning for a divorce?”

“I mean...it will, but that’s not unusual. Especially with people like us, who have large earning potential. This kind of thing is fairly common, and doesn’t imply an intention to divorce, just a protection of assets in case of divorce.” He smirked. “Since I literally just finished a divorce it would look weird if I _ didn’t _have one. And we aren’t going to sign anything today, anyhow, so we can talk about it more if you want. We’ll get separate lawyers to advise us on it before we do.”

Timmy sighed. “Okay. Sorry I freaked out.”

“Freak out all you want,” Armie said. He skimmed a thumb across Timmy’s cheek and frowned. “But something else is bothering you, besides the agreement. Is it the schedule they were talking about? Is it too much? I’m happy to tell all three of them to shove it and let us do our own thing if you want me to.”

Timmy laughed. “No, I don’t mind all that. Like you said, we can just try to be together as often as our schedules allow and it shouldn’t be too hard to sell.”

“Then...something else.” Armie searched his face intently. 

Maybe it was the fog, the fuzziness left over from the lack of sleep and the marathon sex. Maybe it was the way Armie’s eyes were a deeper blue than Timmy had ever seen. Maybe it was the way his lips looked, soft and inviting. 

Whatever it was, Timmy couldn’t help but blurt out, “I saw the agreement, and it was like...this is a map to the end. We just got started, just got _ used _to the fact that we just got started, and I want to enjoy it. I’m not ready for the end.”

Armie’s mouth parted slightly, his eyes widening and his face going pale. Timmy held his breath. _ Shit shit shit_, he thought. He had said too much. What had he been thinking? He _ hadn’t _been thinking, and he was going to fuck this all up. 

”What?” Armie asked. “Do you mean that?”

Timmy tried to figure out how to backpedal as fast as possible. “I know you’re into me, like...being friends who fuck or whatever, and I’m into it too. Last time, though, it just...stopped. And that kind of sucked. I was really afraid you’d stop talking to me, or it would be too uncomfortable to even be friends. _ Now _ it would be even worse, because _ now _ your friendship is even more important, and I don’t want to be worried about that again just yet.”

Armie watched him closely, and when he spoke, it sounded like he was choosing his words carefully. “It did suck. Timmy, you know I didn’t...I didn’t _ want _to end things with you back then, right?”

“Well...I guess,” Timmy said doubtfully. 

“I didn’t. It was the last thing I wanted. But I felt like I had to. It wasn’t fair to you, to string you along while I sorted out my shit. I had to deal with all of that and let you be free to...make your own choices without worrying about me in the meantime.” He smiled. “I already told you that I was trying to find a way to bring it up this weekend. To see if there was a chance we had a shot at it again.”

Armie _ had _said that, Timmy remembered. That he had been planning to make a move before the wedding thing had happened. 

He kept talking. “While I certainly didn’t think we’d end up _ married_, overall this is kind of what I wanted. Another chance with you. So I don’t want to think about it ending either. And who says it has to? I mean, we could even get technically divorced as planned and...be together if we still want to. Do our own thing without worrying about what a piece of paper says.”

A warmth spread from Timmy’s chest throughout his body. Armie wanted to be with him. To try it out, anyhow. Maybe...maybe if this year went well, maybe he’d want to be a real couple when it was over. He had a _ chance_. A year to show Armie that this could be actually good. He swallowed back the emotions that were threatening to overflow. 

“Okay,” he said. 

“Okay what?” Armie asked. 

“Okay...we won’t worry about the end. We’ll just enjoy the second chance, as long as it lasts, and when the year is up, we...see.” 

Armie surged forward and kissed him soundly, and he kissed back. Timmy gave a fleeting thought to the floor-to-ceiling windows that left them in full view of the rest of the offices but then Armie’s tongue tangling with his chased that thought away. 

When they broke apart, Armie grinned at him. “Yeah,” he said. “We’ll just see.”

He got to his feet, pulling Tim up with him. “Let’s get out of here,” he said. He grabbed the folder with the post-marital agreement and tugged Timmy towards the door. “We’ve got a menu to plan and a nap to take before the invasion of the little people.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They were interrupted by an incredulous little voice asking, “Daddy, why were you kissing Timmy?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well. This chapter has tortured me for long enough, so I’m setting it free.
> 
> Special thanks to Kendylgirl and 6 for their assistance in making the train wreck I had resemble an acceptable chapter. Any remaining wreckage is my fault, not theirs. Harper’s best line comes from Kendylgirl 😉 so thanks for that!
> 
> You’ll notice a shift in the tension here (I hope) as I find the true focus of this story. Be kind, I’ve had a hell of a week.
> 
> 100% fiction, of course.

Timmy drifted into consciousness on a kiss.

He smiled and chased the lips as they moved away, blinking open his eyes and frowning when he met only empty air. Armie was crouched next to the bed, smiling.

“More kissing,” Timmy murmured.

Armie laughed softly. “Later,” he said. “I promise.”

As the sleep faded from Timmy’s mind, he registered the fact that if Armie was next to the bed, Armie was no longer _ in _ bed.

They had left the Relevant offices and gone straight to the grocery store, where he got to watch with amusement as Armie muttered about flavor profiles, talked to vegetables, and asked Timmy questions he didn’t know the answer to in the slightest, like, “Do you think this tomato is overpriced?” When they checked out, they had enough food to feed an army — or, at least, one skinny man, one giant man, and two growing children — for a week. He was proud of his contribution to the menu, make-your-own-mini-pizzas, and felt a strange satisfaction in putting the groceries away by Armie’s side once they arrived home.

Armie had then dragged him to bed, where they made out lazily until they fell asleep, wrapped in each other’s arms.

But now Armie was _ out _ of bed. 

“I just wanted to let you know I was going,” Armie said. “It’s time for me to get Ford and Hops from school.”

“Wait.” Timmy pushed himself up on one elbow. “I’ll come with you.”

“You don’t have to,” Armie said. “You should keep sleeping. You’ll need your energy for when we all get back.”

“Do you not want me to come?” Timmy asked. He would understand, he would. They had been together nonstop for days, and maybe Armie needed some time to himself. It wouldn’t be unusual.

Or, Timmy realized, Armie might not want him there when he explained to the kids about why Timmy was even around. What would he tell them? Would he say they were married, or just that they were spending time together? They were old enough to understand what being married meant, generally, and if they heard things from other people....

But if Armie told them they were married, and they knew what that meant, would they be upset if things didn’t work out, and he was suddenly gone?

Timmy’s stomach began to hurt.

“It’s not that,” Armie said. He sat on the edge of the bed and ran a hand through his hair. “It’s just that before I run by the school, I also have to go to pick up the bags from Elizabeth at the house.”

“Oh. And you don’t want me _ there_,” Timmy said, nodding. That made sense. Liz was likely to be pissed in general, and more so if he was actually _ with _ Armie for a domestic task. He didn’t want to make it harder on Armie, that was for sure.

“No,” Armie laughed. “I just figured you’d rather keep yourself out of the line of fire.”

“She’s still pissed?” 

“I haven’t talked to her since I hung up on her, but I’d imagine...yes.” He shrugged. “She’ll probably swear at me and you don’t need to deal with her aiming her anger at you, too.”

Timmy sat up the rest of the way, dangling his legs off of the bed and leaning into Armie. “I don’t mind, actually,” he said honestly. “I mean, it’s going to happen at some point. Might as well get it out of the way. And maybe if I’m there she’ll direct some of her anger at me instead of at you.”

“I just don’t want you to have to deal with that,” Armie said. “It’s not your problem.”

Timmy shifted to sit cross-legged on the bed, facing Armie. He wanted to argue the point — it was his problem, too — but first, he needed to make sure about something. 

“Back at Evelyn and Nicole’s office, you said you wanted another chance. For us.”

Armie nodded, looking suddenly wary. “Yes,” he said. “I did. Do.”

“Does that mean that —“ Timmy paused, took a deep breath, and tried to ignore his somersaulting stomach. “—I just don’t want to be reading too much into this, okay? So if I am, tell me now, and it’s cool. Did you mean you want to try dating? An actual relationship?”

Armie nodded slowly. “Yeah. It’s a little weird...okay, maybe a lot weird...to be saying that when we’re already married. Like we’re doing this fucking backwards. But it’s what I would have asked, in Vegas. If you were still interested, at all, now that I’m free. Being married sort of complicates things, but doesn’t change how I feel.”

Timmy blew out the breath he had been holding. So he _ hadn’t _ misunderstood. Armie was into him, like actually into him. 

“Okay,” Timmy said, his heart beating rapidly. “Then, yes. I want that too.”

Armie smiled, and Timmy found himself leaning in, losing himself in the azure depths of Armie’s eyes, the soft crinkles at their corners, the long lashes. He could hardly believe that Armie actually wanted him, that this wasn’t him fantasizing, but was something real.

Then he remembered the reason he had wanted to clarify things in the first place. 

“So if we’re going to try this relationship thing, then Liz being upset _ is _ my problem. It’s _ our _ problem,” he said. 

Armie frowned. “She’s my ex,” he said. “Just because I come with all this baggage doesn’t mean it’s magically your baggage too.”

“It does, though, doesn’t it?” Timmy countered. “I mean, not that I have any kind of experience being in a successful relationship, but it seems to me that if we’re going to try to be together, we have to share that stuff. Good and bad.”

Armie looked like he was about to protest more, and something occurred to Timmy. He wanted to head it off at the pass so that it didn’t become a...a _ thing_, later on.

“Hey,” he said, “do you think you have to always protect me, or something? Because...you don’t. I can handle Liz, even a pissed off Liz.”

Armie frowned. “I know that,” he said. “Have I made you feel like I don’t think you’re capable of...what...handling yourself?”

“No,” Timmy said honestly. “But if we’re really going to give this a try? Us? I feel like I should maybe tell you that you don’t always have to be the one who takes care of things. I mean, I like it when you’re being...protective. I like feeling cared for. I just want to make sure you know that while I _ like _ that, I don’t always need it. And if you need it, I can be that for you, too. I can be the responsible one, sometimes. It doesn’t always have to be you.”

“Okay,” Armie said. He looked a little confused, and it was so cute that Timmy giggled and leaned forward to bump his forehead against Armie’s shoulder.

“Like, right now? I can come with you. Take some of the heat from Liz so you don’t have to deal with it alone. I mean…” He remembered the other possible reason Armie might want to go alone. “Unless you’re sick of having me around or something and need a break, which is totally fine —”

“Of course not,” Armie said. He grinned at Timmy, and then stood. “Come on, let’s get this over with and then we can grab the kids.”

Ten minutes later, Armie was pulling up to the large Tudor-style home he had purchased last year. He texted Liz to let her know he had arrived, and then punched in the code to open the gate. As he pulled up the driveway, he glanced over at Timmy.

“Doing okay?” he asked. Timmy couldn’t blame him for asking, because his knee was vibrating rapidly and he was chewing on his fingernails.

“Fine,” he said. “I swear,” he added, when Armie raised an eyebrow.

Armie put a hand on his knee, and the warm contact settled him slightly. He _ was _ fine, just a little nervous. Liz could really lay it on when she was unhappy. He had seen it directed at Armie, though, never at himself, and he wasn’t exactly looking forward to the experience.

With a tiny smirk, Armie ran his fingers lightly up the inside of Timmy’s thigh, pausing just before making contact with his dick, which twitched with interest. Timmy tensed.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

Armie ran his fingers down to Timmy’s knee and back up again, this time brushing just barely against the hardening length at his crotch.

“Jesus, what the fuck?” Timmy twisted away, desperately trying to stay in control. 

“Just thought it might distract you,” Armie said, pulling his hand back.

“Well...okay, mission accomplished. But now what?” Timmy shifted uncomfortably. “I can’t go in there like this.”

Armie reached into the back seat, found a jacket, and tossed it across Timmy’s lap. 

“You don’t have to get out,” he said. “She and I have this down to a science. She’ll come out with the bags — or send someone out with them — I’ll toss them into the back, she’ll give me any last-minute instructions through the window, and we’ll be rolling out of here.”

Sure enough, the front door opened and Liz appeared, carrying two small suitcases. She paused briefly when she caught sight of Timmy in the car, but to her credit, she simply pasted on a smile and continued down the walk. Armie popped the trunk and exited the car with a wink at Timmy.

Timmy watched through the rear window as Armie lifted the suitcases into the trunk and exchanged a few words with Liz. Armie returned to the driver’s seat as Liz came around to the passenger window. She leaned down and peered inside, her lash extensions nearly brushing up against the glass. As soon as he realized she wanted to talk to him, he lowered the window.

“Hi, Elizabeth,” he said. 

“Hi, Timmy,” she said. “I guess I should say congratulations.” The words were benevolent, but her tone said _ I hope you choke_, and her eyes flashed.

“Um.” He cleared his throat, wishing he wasn’t so quick to blush. He could already feel his cheeks heating. “Thanks. Hey, I’m sorry we didn’t get a chance to warn you.”

She glanced across him at Armie, and raised both eyebrows, as if to say: _ see, he gets it_. “Yeah, it’s definitely funny that I had no idea at _ all _ that this was coming. I would have appreciated the heads up so that I didn’t have to pretend that I was in the know, was happy for you, and had absolutely no problem with the fact that my recently divorced ex-husband was suddenly newly married to his male co-star so fast it’s giving everyone whiplash. But telling me wasn’t really _ your _ responsibility.”

“I told you already,” Armie said, “it just happened. _ We _ didn’t know beforehand, so there was no way to give you a heads up.”

“Right, you did say that,” Liz said, shooting him a look, “Of course, you could have sent me a quick text afterwards, and not let me find out from social media. Oh, you know what? Since you refuse to answer my question, maybe I’ll ask Timmy.”

“We have to go,” Armie said. “We’re going to be late to get the kids.”

He put the car in reverse and eased his foot off the brake, causing Liz to stand up and take a step back quickly. She folded her arms across her chest.

“Good luck with the kids,” she called out. “Harper is having one of her moods.” She turned and strode up the walk without a backwards glance.

Timmy raised his window and then waited until they had pulled out onto the street before asking, “What question are you refusing to answer?”

“Oh.” Armie laughed. “It’s nothing. I just didn’t want you to have to dodge it when we haven’t talked about it. She’s sure we’ve been carrying on behind her back for a while, and wants to know how long we’ve been fucking.”

“Oh.” Timmy sighed. “I mean, you could just tell her we haven’t been. It’s only kind of a lie, since we haven’t been in a long time.”

“I did tell her that. But she doesn’t believe me. And I don’t really want her to press, because I’m likely to get pissed and just tell her about before to make her shut up. And that’s…”

“Probably not the best idea. I get it.” Timmy threw the jacket into the back. He no longer needed it. “Overall, though, that could have been worse.”

Armie nodded. “Yeah, she’s definitely holding back. Maybe because you were with me.” He reached out and cupped the back of Timmy’s neck. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Warmth bloomed in Timmy’s chest. “Me too,” he said. “Especially if it means she didn’t get a chance to make you feel like shit.”

“She can try, but she’ll never succeed,” Armie said. “Not now.” 

They picked up Ford first. Armie parked and ran inside to get him, while Timmy waited in the car. Ford was chattering softly when Armie returned, opened the back door, and helped him climb into his carseat. He stopped when he saw Timmy, and then turned and ducked his head into Armie’s chest.

Timmy smiled at the cuteness. “Hey, Fordy,” he said gently. 

Armie gave him an apologetic look. “I told him you’d be here, but he’s a little shy these days.”

“That’s okay,” Timmy said. “I’ll be here a while, so when he’s ready, he can let me know.”

He watched as Armie maneuvered the still-hiding Ford into the straps. Ford transferred his face from Armie’s chest to his own arms, and Timmy laughed.

Ford continued to hide until they pulled up the long drive and got into the line of cars circling the pick-up spot at Harper’s school. Then, he peeked out and couldn’t resist dropping his arms to stare out the window.

“Hopsey’s there,” he said, jabbing his finger into the window.

“I see her,” Armie replied. He pulled out of the line and up to the curb, then exited the car. Harper broke away from her class and ran for Armie as he stepped onto the grass. He picked her up and squeezed her close, talking to her. She nodded vigorously, then leaned down and waved frantically at Timmy. 

He grinned and waved back.

Before he knew what was happening, she was wriggling down from Armie’s embrace and yanking open the passenger door.

“Uncle Timmy, you’re here,” she cried out. She tugged at his right arm, and he unbuckled his seatbelt with his left hand, letting her pull him out of the car. He tried to keep his balance as she climbed _ up _ him until her skinny arms were wrapped around his neck. He shifted her into a better position and hugged her tightly.

“Hey, Hops,” he said. “Man, it’s good to see you.”

“Okay, let Timmy go,” Armie said, attempting to pry her away. “You can hug him all you want at home. We can’t leave the car here, they’ll yell at us.”

Harper kissed Timmy on the cheek, a loud, happy smack, then slid down to the ground and hopped into the back of the car. She was buckling herself into her carseat and talking to Ford as a woman in a boldly-patterned dress approached, smiling broadly.

“I heard that. A happy reunion is always allowed,” she said. “Hello, Armie.”

“Hi,” Armie said. He shook her offered hand. Then he glanced to Timmy, and stepped closer, draping his arm around Timmy’s shoulders. “Tim, this is Dr. Rhad, the principal. Dr. Rhad, this is Timothée, my...husband.”

At the word, Armie’s hand tightened on Timmy’s bicep. This was it. The first one, the first time Armie was actually introducing him to someone new, who was an important part of Armie’s real actual life, as—

“Timothée, it’s so nice to meet you,” Dr. Rhad was saying. “I’m a big fan of your work, and so pleased you’ll be a new parent here.”

“Thanks,” Timmy said, shaking her hand. “It’s such a beautiful school. Harper is lucky to attend.”

“He’s a charmer, too,” Dr. Rhad said, winking at Armie. “I’ll let you get on with your day. Make sure to fill out the online form so that we’ve got written verification to add Timothée to the emergency contact and pick-up lists.”

She walked away to greet another parent, and Armie beamed down at Timmy. “She loves you,” he said. “Which is good. I haven’t been around a lot, so she’s mostly dealt with Liz, and I need her to like me, too.”

As Timmy returned to his own seat, he heard Harper talking excitedly to Ford about something that had to do with a dragon...a continuation of a story from earlier that day, it seemed. He smiled, feeling a layer of contentment settle over him.

“What are you smiling about?” Armie asked, buckling himself into his own seat. Timmy just shook his head, and Armie leaned over and kissed him lightly. Timmy expected the chatter in the back seat to halt, but the kids kept going as though nothing strange had happened, and then Armie was pulling back out into the line of traffic with a warm, comforting hand on Timmy’s knee.

* * *

Upon arrival home, Ford dragged Harper to their room to “unpack” — which seemed to involve him getting very stressed about exactly what way she put his clothes in his dresser — and then they played for a while without needing to be entertained.

Timmy went to join them, but Armie pulled him into the kitchen and murmured in his ear. “First rule of parenting. When they’re occupying themselves and not getting in harm’s way, we leave them alone.”

“Sorry,” Timmy said. “I didn’t mean to overstep.”

“You didn’t. You can’t, really.” Armie grinned, his eyes twinkling. “After all, you’re their stepdad now.”

Timmy’s mouth dropped open, and he felt suddenly lightheaded and unsteady on his feet. _ Stepdad. _ He was Harper and Ford’s stepdad. 

In all the chaos of being suddenly married and figuring out what that meant for him, and _ them, _he hadn’t stopped to consider his relationship with the kids. He had thought about them, of course, in the abstract: they were a part of Armie’s life, and sometimes Armie would be taking care of them, and Timmy would be there too…

...but he had been thinking in terms of playing games with them and cuddling and not actually having responsibilities toward them. 

What did that mean, to be their stepdad? Would he have to make sure they had clothes, enough food? Teach them things? He really had no idea what being a parent was really all about. And he wasn’t sure how he felt about the concept. Terrified? Excited? Grateful? A little bit of everything?

Of course, if this was all just temporary, if he and Armie didn’t work out, it wouldn’t really matter. In fact, it would be best for them if he hung back, didn’t get too involved. Remained Uncle Timmy, so that when this was all over, they wouldn’t miss him. 

Then again, if it did work out, if he managed to convince Armie _ not _ to undo the marriage in a year...

Armie frowned at what must have been a completely befuddled expression on Timmy’s face and stepped close. He ran a hand down Timmy’s arm and encircled his wrist lightly. “Hey,” he said. “No pressure. I know it’s not...the stepdad thing, it’s not _ real_, so you don’t have to feel any responsibility. I was just joking.”

Timmy shook his head and swallowed, trying to figure out how to express what he was feeling. 

“And if…” Armie’s gaze dropped to the floor and he shifted to his other foot. “Listen, if it gets to be too much, with the kids here and stuff, I can put you up in a hotel. Or you can go back to New York. You won’t hurt my feelings, I promise.”

What Armie was saying wasn’t true, Timmy realized suddenly. If he took him up on his offer, if he decided to head back to New York without Armie, he _ would _ hurt Armie’s feelings. Armie would act like it didn’t matter, but it clearly did. Even right now, his jaw was clenching and unclenching, and he sighed and dropped his hand from Timmy’s wrist, taking a step back. Timmy knew that Armie needed reassurance in that moment. Reassurance that Timmy really was in this, and not just a little. 

“No,” he said. He moved in close, placing a hand on Armie’s chest, and waited for him to lift his gaze. “It’s not too much.”

Armie covered Timmy’s hand with his own, stroking across the back with his thumb. “It’s okay,” he said. “Seriously, you don’t have to be—“

“Look, the _ idea _ of being a stepfather sort of took me by surprise, since I hadn’t really thought about it in that way. And it’s a little scary. But I love your kids. So just tell me what to do because I’m going to be completely shit at this without a little instruction, and I don’t want to screw it up even if...well, no matter how long it lasts.” He tried an encouraging smile. 

It must have worked, because Armie’s features softened. He leaned down and kissed Timmy, his hands cupping Timmy’s jaw as Timmy opened to him and shifted closer. After a minute, they broke apart, and Armie rested his forehead against Timmy’s. 

They were interrupted by an incredulous little voice asking, “Daddy, why were you kissing Timmy?”

They turned to see Harper in the doorway to the kitchen, watching them with a curious expression. Timmy moved to step away from Armie, but Armie slid his hands down to Timmy’s hips and held him in place. 

“Because I wanted to,” he said. “Where’s your brother?”

“Setting up Candyland,” she said. “Will you play with us? Timmy too?”

Armie groaned and dropped his forehead onto Timmy’s shoulder. “You sure you don’t want to play a different game?”

“Fordy likes Candyland,” she said matter-of-factly. “And it was his turn to choose.”

“In that case, you’re right, it’s only fair,” Armie said. “Go on back, we’ll be there in a minute.”

When she had run off, Timmy stared after her. “That was easy,” he said. 

“The question? Oh, she’s not done. She’ll think about it and come back with three more in a while.” Armie placed a row of kisses along Timmy’s jaw. 

“What are we telling her? Them?” Timmy asked, angling his head to the side to allow Armie to trail his lips along Timmy’s neck. “About...all of this.”

Armie straightened up and sighed. “Liz said she hadn’t told them anything yet. She’d leave it to us.”

“That was nice of her.”

“Not really. She’s letting us figure out how to address it, thereby avoiding all the questions herself.” He shrugged. “We can’t lie to them, about being married. People might say something. But I want to sort of downplay it, if that’s okay with you. I’m worried that if we make too big of a deal, and then in a year, we…you’re suddenly not around anymore—”

He released Timmy and stepped back. Timmy tried not to be bothered by Armie’s words about the potential for things to be over in a year. He had literally just said something similar, not wanting to put pressure on Armie or make any assumptions. Armie was probably doing the same. 

“I get it,” Timmy said. “Downplay. That’s fine.”

“It’s only because they just had to get used to a divorce,” Armie said, running a hand through his hair. “So if we can make this seem like a fun time, and not make them any promises…” he trailed off. 

“Right. I can just still be Uncle Timmy. I was thinking that before, actually, that that might be better for them.” Timmy glanced towards the living room. He could see the tops of the kids’ heads where they were kneeling next to the coffee table on the other side of the sofa. “Come on, let’s go so I can kick your ass at Candyland.”

Armie grinned. “No fucking way,” he said. “I am the Candyland _ master._”

* * *

Armie had been right; Harper started asking questions again while they prepared dinner. He had set the kids up on stools at the counter, tearing up iceberg lettuce into tiny pieces. 

“It would be easier to slice it,” Armie had explained in a whisper at Timmy’s perplexed gaze, “but it’s something they can do to help and it’ll keep them occupied.”

Meanwhile, Timmy was given the task of cutting up tomatoes and mashing avocado while Armie sautéed onions and peppers, browned and seasoned ground beef, and toasted tortillas. Timmy was pretty sure he was succeeding in mashing the tomatoes too, but Armie just raised an eyebrow at him and smirked, and so he stubbornly kept at it, doing his best not to squash the bright red fruit.

“Timmy, did you want Daddy to kiss you?” Harper asked suddenly. 

The knife slipped and thunked on the cutting board. 

“I…” Timmy cleared his throat. “Yes, I did.”

Armie shot him an amused look. 

“Because Daddy says you shouldn’t kiss someone if they don’t want you to. It’s okay to say no, even to grown ups.” Harper was wearing her most serious, teacher-like expression, and Timmy did his best not to laugh. 

Then he wondered briefly if Harper thought of him as a kid, because he wasn’t as big as Armie, and it became even harder not to at least giggle.

“You don’t have to worry,” he said. “I didn’t want to say no.”

She went back to the lettuce, and the rest of the cooking passed without incident. 

When they had taken their seats at the dining table — Armie and Ford on one side, Harper and Timmy on the other — she spoke up again. 

“Daddy?”

“Yes, Hops?” Armie was busy helping Ford put fixings on his taco. 

She pointed to his left hand, which was scooping avocado onto Ford’s taco. “Why are you wearing a ring again? Mommy doesn’t wear hers because you’re divorced.”

Armie paused, and glanced across the table at Timmy. “This is actually a different ring,” he said. “Timmy has one too.”

Harper turned to Timmy and grabbed his hand. She played with the wedding ring and frowned. Timmy held his breath.

“It matches,” she said. “Did Daddy give this to you?”

“Um...yes, he did,” Timmy said. He looked to Armie for help. 

“It matches, Hops, because Timmy and I got married this weekend,” he said. “So we’re going to live together now, like Mommy and Daddy used to.”

“Oh. Can I have a matching ring, too?” Harper asked. “And Ford?”

Timmy let out an amused laugh. “Maybe not exactly like this,” he said, “but I think we could get you something.”

“Do you want to talk more about it?” Armie asked her. 

“No,” she said, and took a giant bite of her taco, sending lettuce and tomato spilling onto her plate. 

“Now that’s the way to eat a taco,” Timmy said, taking a giant bite of his own. The relief at how well she seemed to be taking it coursed through him. He glanced over at Ford, who didn’t seem to be paying attention. His focus was on plucking pieces of filling out of his taco shell and eating them bit by bit. 

* * *

After dinner, Armie insisted on doing the dishes and sent Timmy into the living room with the kids. To Timmy’s surprise, Ford crawled into his lap as soon as he sat on the sofa, cuddling up to him and resting his head on Timmy’s shoulder. Timmy wrapped an arm around him and held him close, and then opened his other arm to Harper, who curled up at his side.

He asked her about school, and she chattered on a while about her teacher, and the new playground equipment, and the permission slip for the field trip to the zoo that Armie had to sign. Ford perked up at the mention of the zoo and the conversation moved to determining the best animal to see there. Ford lobbied hard for the monkeys and Harper was adamant that the kangaroos were the thing. 

The argument escalated when Harper said, “Fordy, the monkeys are stupid and so are—“

In a desperate move to avoid a fight, Timmy went on tickle offensive, digging his fingers into Harper’s side. She squealed and squirmed and giggled, and Ford looked so surprised that Timmy attacked him too, until he had his arms full of two children gasping with laughter and trying to tickle him back. 

Armie walked in just as Harper managed to hit her target, sending Timmy into a fit of giggles. He grinned down at them, then pulled his phone out and snapped a photo. 

“Don’t just...take a picture,” Timmy managed. “Help me.”

Armie swooped in and scooped Harper away from Timmy, tossing her over his shoulder. Ford immediately shouted, “Daddy, me too,” and held up his arms, and then Armie had one laughing kid hanging off each shoulder. 

“We have time for one movie before bed,” he said. “What’s it going to be this time?”

“Princess Charm School,” Harper said without hesitation. 

“No, Puppies,” Ford countered. “I want to watch the Puppy movie.”

Armie deposited them both on the sofa and sat next to them. “We watched the Puppy movie last time. Can we watch Harper’s tonight?”

Harper looked pleased, but Ford definitely didn’t see the logic in that. His face began to crumple, and Armie acted quickly, digging a quarter out of his pocket and holding it up. 

“Flip for it?” he asked. 

This seemed to be the right move, because both kids looked delighted. “Flip it, flip it!” Ford said, clapping his hands. 

“Timmy, which movie is heads?” Armie asked, winking at him. 

“Um...puppies. Because puppies have heads,” Timmy said. Watching Armie with the kids always gave him a warm feeling in his stomach, and he knew he had a stupid grin on his face. He couldn’t help it. 

“So do princesses. And puppies have tails,” Harper pointed out, but she didn’t press the issue. 

Armie laughed. “Okay, heads we watch Puppies, tails we watch Princesses. Agreed?” The kids nodded, and with a flick of his wrist, he flipped the coin high into the air. 

As it spun upwards, glittering in the early evening light, Timmy suddenly had a flash of...something. Armie flipping a different type of coin into the air, strobe lights flickering around them, a mischievous glint in his eye. He felt a remembered giddiness, a breathless anticipation, and his breath caught in his chest. 

Then he was back in Armie’s condo, the quarter fell into Armie’s outstretched palm, and he slapped it onto the back of his hand. When he revealed it, it was tails up. He grinned at Timmy. 

_ What the fuck was that? _Timmy wondered, blinking at the sharp focus of reality around him. 

“Princesses it is,” Armie said. “Fordy, we’ll watch Puppies tomorrow, okay?”

A few minutes later, the Princess movie was queued up and they were squashed together on the sofa. Armie had gathered Timmy to his side and the kids were sprawled across their laps. 

“Daddy, if you’re married to Timmy is that like Sophie D. has two mommies?” Harper asked, as the opening credits began. 

“Sort of,” Armie said. “But you’ve got a mommy and a daddy. And a Timmy.”

They watched a blonde cartoon waitress cleaning up a café onscreen for a minute, and then Harper asked, “So I can marry Ava B.?”

“Sure,” said Armie. “When you’re older, if you want to marry Ava B., you can decide to do that.”

“_Or,_” Harper said, “I could marry Aiden.”

“Oh god, not Aiden.” Armie groaned and rolled his eyes.

“What’s wrong with Aiden?” Timmy asked, giggling. 

“He always smells kind of like pizza,” Harper said, which intensified Timmy’s giggling. “But I don’t mind.”

“You can marry whoever you want, even if they smell like pizza,” Armie told her. “As long as you love them.”

She wriggled in Armie’s lap. “Is that why you married Timmy?” she asked. “Because you love him?”

Timmy stilled. He waited for Armie’s answer, wondering what he was going to say. 

Armie coughed. “I...yes,” he said. Timmy’s heart pounded twice in quick succession. 

_ He can’t very well say _ no, Timmy thought, trying to talk himself down. _ It doesn’t mean anything. _

“But you loved Timmy before and you didn’t marry him before. Why?” She swiveled her head up to peer at her father, her brow wrinkled and her lips pursed as she tried to puzzle it out. 

Armie glanced over at Timmy, and Timmy thought — _ maybe _ — he was blushing. 

“Well, before — I was married to mommy a long time,” he said at last. “You can’t be married to more than one person at once.”

“Oh.” She settled back down to watch the movie, which was now underway. Armie casually snuck a hand up into Timmy’s curls, and Timmy pressed closer in to his side.

* * *

Later, while Armie was orchestrating a good night FaceTime with Liz and tucking the kids into bed, Timmy grabbed up his phone and began to scroll through social media. 

He stopped when he saw a photo on Armie’s Instagram. 

It was of him and the kids, all tangled up together on the sofa, laughing. From when he was tickling them, and Armie had snapped the photo, he remembered. 

Underneath, the caption read:

**armiehammer: All three beautiful pieces of my ❤️, on one ugly sofa.**

Once again, just like when Armie posted the photo of him on the plane, Timmy found himself aching at the sight of the post. This time, he knew there was something real behind it, even if it was exaggerated for effect.

He tapped the little heart to register that he “liked” it, and then tapped again to pull up the comment box. After a minute of thought, he went with honesty, and typed:

**tchalamet: 😍😍😍** **x a million. I can’t believe this is my life now. #stepdad #rockingitsofar**

Timmy was still trying to regain his composure when Armie returned from the kids’ room. He watched, puzzled, as Armie moved around the condo turning off lights. 

“What are you doing?” he asked. “It’s only—“

Armie took his hand and tugged him through the darkened rooms towards the bedroom. “I’m ready for bed,” he said. 

Timmy let himself be pulled down the hall. Once in the room, Armie closed the door softly and then turned to him with hooded eyes. Without saying a word, he pulled Timmy’s shirt over his head and began to undo his pants. 

With a wild thought about the kids in the next room, Timmy said, “Wait. What about—“

“Shhhh,” Armie said, pushing Timmy’s pants down and helping him step out of them. He gently nudged Timmy until he was stretched out on the center of the big bed. Timmy watched as Armie removed his own clothes, leaving them in a pile on the floor. He crawled onto the bed and hovered over Timmy. 

“Armie—“

“Do you think you can be quiet?” Armie asked softly. 

“I...I don’t know,” Timmy said. “You know I—“

“Try,” Armie breathed. “I need…”

Then he flipped Timmy onto his stomach, smoothed his hands down Timmy’s back, and parted his cheeks. Before he realized what Armie was up to, he felt the swipe of Armie’s tongue against his hole. He moaned.

Armie squeezed his calf. “Quiet,” he admonished, and then returned to his task. 

“Mmmph.” Timmy desperately shoved the corner of the pillow into his mouth as Armie’s tongue flicked around, poking and swirling and setting all his nerve endings to song. 

He squeezed his eyes shut and tried not to let his moans escape their cotton prison. His stomach muscles repeatedly coiled and released, and his cock began to leak steadily, as Armie breached his ring and his tongue slid inside, a velvety wetness stroking along his inner walls. Tears sprang to Timmy’s eyes as Armie struck up a pulsing rhythm, pulling and pushing on Timmy’s hips until Timmy was thrusting himself back and forth and sobbing into the pillow. 

After ages of licking and sucking, Armie pulled away. Timmy waited, shuddering, and a moment later Armie was back, sliding a slick finger inside him and sending him into a new round of heart-pounding pleasure. 

He was close to tearing the pillow aside and out and out begging for Armie to touch his aching cock when Armie flipped him over again. He lost his grip on the pillow and let out a single too-loud moan before Armie slid up his body and silenced him with a kiss. 

With his mouth firmly sealed to Timmy’s so he could swallow every cry, Armie slid home with a long, slow glide. Timmy wrapped his legs around Armie’s waist and canted his hips up, helping Armie find just the right angle. 

They rocked together, Armie kissing and kissing Timmy until he could no longer remember ever having breathed in his life. When Armie wrapped a hand around Timmy’s length and stroked, it took only a few moments before Timmy lost all control and came, stars appearing at the edges of his vision. 

Armie followed him over the edge, and they lay there, gasping harshly in the darkness. Timmy’s hands slid up and down Armie’s back, and Armie nuzzled into Timmy’s neck. 

“That was pretty decent,” Armie murmured, after long minutes had passed. 

“Decent?” Timmy replied dazedly. “Is that all?”

“No, I mean…” Armie chuckled and rolled off of Timmy, pulling him close to his chest. “...you did a decent job staying quiet.”

“Thanks to the pillow,” Timmy said, patting the damp spot next to his head with a new fondness. “And your tongue.”

“Mmm, that seemed effective.” With a quick kiss to Timmy’s forehead, Armie was off the bed and striding into the bathroom. He returned with a damp cloth and scooped their boxers off of the floor. “We should clean up and put these on,” he said. “The kids have a tendency to wake up and charge in here minutes before the alarm goes off.”

Once they were cleaned up and snuggled beneath the covers, Armie sighed. 

“What’s the matter?” Timmy asked. 

“I was nervous,” Armie confessed. “About the kids, and telling them about us, how they would react. You having to deal with all my baggage and whether you’d run screaming.”

“Never,” Timmy said. “Your kids aren’t baggage, Armie. And I was nervous too. I thought maybe they might be more upset. Be angry with me for being...not Liz. They seem okay, though.”

“Well, they’ve been dealing with the separation and divorce for a while, so they’re used to that part. We’ll have to wait and see what boils up over the next few days while they process, but yeah. They do seem okay. It helps that they already know you and love you.”

Now Timmy sighed, and Armie tightened his embrace. “Early morning tomorrow,” he said, his voice going soft around the edges. “Not enough sleep last night. Great sex. I’m ready to drift off.”

“Yeah. Good night.” Timmy tipped his face up to Armie’s mouth once more. He felt himself drifting as well, and slid into unconsciousness the way he had awakened that afternoon, with his lips brushing against Armie’s. 


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Timmy had never been happier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fluff fluff fluff, nothing but fluffity-fluff.
> 
> There was supposed to be some mega conflict in this chapter but it’ll have to wait for the next because instead these two bozos decided to be cute for a while, and I couldn’t bear to interrupt their fun.
> 
> There’s nothing artful or intentional here, and I’m not even sure it moves the story along, but I had fun writing it so I hope you have fun reading it. A lot more will happen in the next chapter, I promise.
> 
> 100% fiction.

The tinny voice roused Timmy from sleep. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, we have begun our descent to John F. Kennedy International airport. Please be sure your seats and tray tables are in their upright and locked position. Flight attendants will be coming around to take any final refuse items you may have. Then sit back and relax, and we’ll have you on the ground in about thirty minutes.”

Timmy blinked in confusion a few times, and then gave up the fight and let his heavy lids fall once more. He turned his face into soft warmth and felt himself drowsily sliding back towards slumber. 

“Hey, T. You gotta wake up a second.” The voice rumbled around him, from under his cheek and up above at the same time. “Come on, just for a second, I promise.”

Armie. Armie was trying to wake him up. Why? Something was wrong.

He forced his eyes open and sat up, wincing at the crick in his neck. “The kids? What’s the matter?” he asked, reaching up a hand to rub at the aching spot. Armie filled his entire vision, the edges around him soft and blurred. 

“No.” Armie huffed a soft laugh. “Not the kids. The kids are fine. We’re on the airplane and they need us to sit up. Give me a second to fix the seats and you can nap again for a bit.”

“Oh. _ Oh.” _ Timmy blinked again and the rest of the world filled in: the fluorescent-lit cabin of the plane, the other passengers, the overhead bins, the leatherette seats of first class. 

Armie was reaching over him to push the lever that raised the seatback. “There,” he said. He lifted an arm. “Come on back.”

Timmy gratefully collapsed against Armie’s chest, but now he was awake, and his eyes remained open. So he slung an arm across Armie’s stomach, focused on Armie’s hand slowly moving up and down his side, and enjoyed being right where he most wanted to be. 

He had slept most of the flight from LA to New York. No wonder, since he hadn’t gotten much sleep since...well, since before Vegas. 

During the week in LA, he had probably slept only four or five hours each night. Despite daily vows that they’d get more sleep, each time they slid into bed the drowsiness gave way to a constant need that they couldn’t seem to satisfy. Hours would tick by as they became reacquainted with the response of every sensitive patch of skin, the tone of every muffled cry, the taste of every cell.

Then, the kids had woken them up at dawn each morning, flinging open the door to the bedroom and climbing into bed with them, giggling and bouncing and seeking snuggles. The first morning it had taken Timmy by surprise, and he had been startled when Harper had pushed him from where he had been draped across Armie’s chest and taken a place there herself. Armie had laughed at the expression on his face, then scooped Ford onto the bed with one arm and deposited him on Timmy’s stomach. 

By Sunday, Harper was giving Timmy equal snuggle time, snaking under the covers and wrapping her arms around his neck to kiss both of his cheeks. 

“That’s the fancy way to say hello, my friend Mia taught me it,” she had informed him seriously. 

He had laughed and kissed both of her cheeks, then both of Ford’s, then Armie had kissed both of his and somehow managed to plant a wet one on his lips too. 

All week, he had waited for the other shoe to drop, for one or the other of the kids to resent him for not being their mother, but instead they seemed to embrace him as part of the family. Even Ford had tried to teach him bedtime routines, solemnly explaining the right way to brush your teeth. It wasn’t that there weren’t any mishaps or struggles — Ford had had the mother of all meltdowns on Thursday seemingly over a hole in Timmy’s left sock, and Harper had pitched a fit on Saturday because Ford colored on one of the school assignments she had brought home — but being able to fix those problems and get tearful hugs afterwards just served to make Timmy feel more settled, not less. 

He had also waited for Armie to get exasperated with his constant questions — _ can Ford eat granola bars, what shirt should Harper wear, where do you keep the towels, can we buy more milk today — _ but instead, each successive inquiry seemed to make Armie grin wider and look at him more fondly. 

The fact that they didn’t seem to be sick of each other after practically living in one another’s pockets and breathing the same air for a week was yet another source of shock. Sure, they had ended up with some solo time — Brian had taken advantage of Timmy’s presence in LA to set up some meetings, Armie had gone to the doctor for his annual physical, and they had made appointments with the lawyers about the damned post-marital agreement, which Timmy had finally grudgingly signed — but for the most part, everything else had been done in tandem. 

Timmy had never been happier. 

Now, they were headed for New York for a week. His favorite place in the world, where most of his friends were, where his family was, where his most beloved restaurants and movie theaters and parks were. And he was getting to bring Armie with him. 

He tried not to think about the fact that, in a week, he’d have to say goodbye to Armie and head for the wilds of South Dakota for filming. It made him feel sick, and so he shoved it as far down as he could and packed it into a tiny box to deal with later. 

His pulse picked up as he felt the plane dip and then level out, heard the wheels descending, practically felt the ground rushing up beneath them. Armie’s arm tightened around him and lips pressed the top of his head just as they touched down with a gentle bounce. He let out a sigh of relief and relaxed. 

When the plane pulled up to the jetway and the _ ding _ signaled that it was safe to unfasten their seatbelts, Timmy sat up and ran his hands through his hair. It was probably sticking up in all directions, and he smoothed it back as best he could. 

Armie bent down and retrieved their bags from under the seats in front of them. He unzipped a side pocket of Timmy’s backpack and retrieved a cap. Timmy took it with a grateful smile and shoved it on his head, tucking his hair behind his ears. 

“I’m starving,” Armie said, shoving his own hat on his head. “Let’s grab a snack on the way back to your place.”

“You’re assuming I have no food at my place,” Timmy said. He checked their seatback pockets and pulled out his headphones and the book on the history of fonts that Armie had impulse-bought at LAX. 

“Thanks,” Armie said, taking the book and putting it in his duffle. “And do you?”

“Nope. My fridge and pantry are empty.” Timmy grinned. “But the Chinese place on the corner delivers.”

“I’m just thinking snack,” Armie said, standing and moving onto the aisle where he had head room. “Since it’s nearly three in the afternoon. I don’t want to ruin dinner. Unless you’d rather have a full meal now.” 

“Nah, I’m not that hungry,” Timmy said. “But we could do the Chinese place for dinner later.”

The flight attendants began to allow the passengers to disembark. Armie took a step back to let Timmy exit the row in front of him, and they moved out onto the jetway, falling into step beside each other. 

“We could,” Armie said. “Or...I was thinking you could let me take you out.”

Timmy glanced up at Armie, who was smiling down at him. “Take me out?”

Armie shrugged. “Yeah. I don’t know, like on a date. We haven’t done that yet, with the kids being around and stuff.”

“Oh. Like a date.” Timmy’s face flushed. Armie wanted to take him on a _ date_. Because they were dating. He kept...not _ forgetting_, exactly. Having trouble making a distinction between being married on paper, their daily existence as partners, and the idea that they had decided to _ date_, whatever that actually meant. It made his head spin. “Yeah, okay.” 

They walked past the crowds waiting at the gate and proceeded towards baggage claim. Armie ignored the moving walkways, and Timmy struggled to match his large strides. 

“Do you have a favorite place you’d like to go?” Armie asked. “Or if there’s a type of food you want to eat?”

“I’m cool with whatever,” Timmy said. Armie looked disappointed at that, so he added, “Can I think about it?”

“Of course.” By the time they reached baggage claim, Timmy was slightly out of breath. “You okay?” Armie asked. 

“You have longer legs than me,” Timmy said, rolling his eyes. 

Armie frowned. “Sorry,” he said. “You should have said something.”

“It’s fine.” Timmy smacked his arm. “I’ll survive.”

“I mean, I assumed a native New Yorker could keep up.” Armie poked Timmy in the side and Timmy squirmed away. 

“I did keep up. Don’t forget, I’m younger than you.”

“So? What’s your point?”

“My point is I have boundless stores of energy. There’s your bag, old man. Better grab it.” Timmy pointed to Armie’s suitcase, which was tumbling toward them. 

Armie pulled on the bill of Timmy’s cap, yanking it down over his eyes. By the time Timmy had tipped it back, Armie had grabbed his bag and was reaching for Timmy’s as well. 

“This old man — who can run circles around you, by the way, because you don’t work out ever — is your husband now,” Armie said, handing over Timmy’s bag with a mischievous grin. “You’d better show some respect.”

Timmy dug their sunglasses out of his backpack and handed Armie’s to him. “Yes sir. Right away, sir.” He laughed and jumped out of the way when Armie grabbed at him. 

They caught a cab to Timmy’s place, and lugged their bags up to the fourth floor. 

“I forgot you live in a walk up,” Armie said, as they rounded the corner to the third flight of stairs. 

“Who’s out of shape now? You need a hand with that?” Timmy shot a glance over his shoulder and laughed as Armie flipped him off. “You’ve only been here the one time, right?” he asked. Timmy had signed the lease on the studio a few months earlier, while Armie was performing at the Cort Theater and Timmy had just returned from a run in London and decided he wanted a home base in New York again. Armie had come over and they had eaten pizza sitting cross-legged on the floor and picked out furniture to order online. 

“Yeah. I’d forgotten about the stairs.” They reached the fourth floor and Timmy led the way down the hall, where he unlocked the door and pushed it open. Armie followed him inside. “I’d also forgotten how fucking tiny it is, holy shit.”

Timmy looked around. It was a studio, sure, but it was a decent size. Enough room for a queen-sized bed and a futon and a small table and a television mounted on the wall.

“It’s New York,” he said with a shrug. “There isn’t space for palatial Tudor mansions for everyone. Besides, I’m not here all that often so I don’t need much space.”

They ate the empanadas they had grabbed from a street cart outside and then Armie tried to find space to hang his things on the garment rack crammed between the bed and the window. 

“Okay,” he said, wrestling with hangers, “how the hell did you not plan for more closet space when you signed a lease?” 

“It’s New York,” Timmy said. “Closet space is a luxury most people don’t have. This works. Come on, I want to go for a walk.”

They walked up through Tompkins Square Park, got coffee, and then wandered around the East Village. Timmy bought a pair of purple boots and Armie found another book — some collection of essays by some guy about National Parks.

“Some guy?” Armie asked incredulously, as they headed back towards Timmy’s to get ready for dinner. “Some — come on, this is John Muir. Tell me you know who John Muir is.”

“I know who John Muir is,” Timmy parroted, stepping around a pothole in the walkway. 

“Liar,” Armie said, laughing. “I am so reading to you from this tonight. No arguments. You’re going to love it.”

Timmy stopped in his tracks. Armie wanted to read to him? It wouldn’t be the first time. Back in Crema, and then again while they were fooling around, Armie would sometimes read him passages of whatever book or article he had in front of him. 

_ “Listen to this,” he would say, reaching out to pat Timmy’s stomach where he lay beside Armie in bed. Timmy, who would inevitably have been poking around Instagram or Tumblr, would set his phone aside and close his eyes. Then Armie would start reading, his velvety tone washing over Timmy and sending all his nerves tingling. _

“What?” Armie asked now, turning back to see why Timmy had stopped. “What are you staring at?”

They had crossed back into Tompkins Square Park. Armie was facing west. He squinted into the late afternoon sun, which lit up his features and picked up the golden tones in his hair. The greenery of the park provided a perfect backdrop. 

The sight took his breath away, and he felt a sudden need to bottle this feeling deep in his chest, to capture it in some way. 

“Don’t move,” Timmy said. He dug his phone out of his pocket, framed up the shot, and snapped a handful of photos. 

Then he pulled up Instagram and posted the best one with the caption:

**tchalamet: This city, and Him. My two homes. 🏠❤️**

He shoved his phone back in his pocket and bounded forward, grabbing Armie’s hand.

“Come on,” he said. “Let’s get back. I have a hot date tonight, and I need time to look my best.”

* * *

Timmy had decided he was in the mood for Asian food after all, and had chosen a popular noodle bar in the East Village. Reservations weren’t available so late, and they milled around outside while waiting for a table. Armie laughed at the way he couldn’t seem to settle, pacing and twirling around as they talked about upcoming movies they wanted to see. Timmy couldn’t help it. It was lively and crowded and he felt the energy of being back in New York buzzing around him and seeping into his skin.

Eventually, they were seated. Armie hooked his feet around Timmy’s under the table, and they ordered Japanese beer and pork belly buns and ramen. 

“So,” Armie said, when the waitress had delivered their beers, “tell me about yourself.”

“Huh?” Timmy asked. The beer was halfway to his lips and he paused, holding it there. “Tell you about what?”

“Well, this is our first date, right? It’s the kind of thing you ask on a first date.”

Timmy burst out laughing, and Armie’s lips twitched with amusement. 

“Armie,” Timmy said, “first of all, that’s an _ awful _ first date question. Is that the kind of thing you used to ask people, once upon a time?”

“Back in the dark ages, the last time I dated, you mean?” Armie asked.

“You said it, I didn’t,” Timmy shrugged, and Armie kicked him under the table. “But more importantly, you already know about me. Or, you know anything I’d tell someone on a first date. Because we had these conversations years ago.”

“Are you saying we’ve already had our first date and didn’t know it?” Armie leaned back to let the waitress deliver the pork buns. “Doesn’t seem fair.”

Timmy thought back to those early days in Crema, where they were just getting to know each other. It had probably looked like a series of first dates to anyone observing: biking around town, taking walks after dinner, treating each other to gelato, watching movies and talking all night. And it had _ felt _ like that, too. Timmy remembered the butterflies in his stomach whenever there was a knock on the door of his flat and he knew Armie was coming over. He recalled the way he felt a the hairs on his neck stand up when he sensed Armie was watching him. 

“I mean...kind of.” Timmy took a bite of pork bun and chewed, thinking. “We did all that ‘get to know you’ stuff all the way back in _ Crema_. And then, later, we did go out and do things together, while we were…” He waved a hand in the air. 

“Fucking? Yeah. But even if at the time I thought —“ Armie smiled and shook his head. “Never mind. I was just trying to be cute.”

Timmy grinned. “Well, you succeeded.” He picked up the other pork bun and held it out to Armie. “Here, try this, you’re going to love it.”

Armie leaned in and took a bite, his lips brushing against Timmy’s fingers. “Mmm, that’s amazing,” he said, around the mouthful. 

“We’ve never done that before,” Timmy said. “You’ve never let me feed you in public. So that’s new.”

“Hey, that’s a good idea.” Armie nodded. “First dates are all about discovering each other. But we already know each other. Really fucking _ well_. And yet...I always feel like there’s more I want to know.”

“About me?” Timmy asked. 

“Yes. About you. And all the stuff underneath. Don’t blush,” Armie laughed, as Timmy’s cheeks heated. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant...that’s our challenge tonight. To find out things about each other we don’t already know.”

“Okay,” Timmy said. “First question, then. Where did you learn all the weird stuff you know? Is it really just from reading a lot?”

“Weird stuff?” Armie made a face of mock offense. “I’ll have you know that having an intimate understanding of traditions of burial in New England in the 18th century is incredibly useful in daily life.”

“Riiiight.” Timmy finished his pork bun just as their ramen arrived. “So let’s take that example. Where did you learn about...what did you just say?”

“Traditions of burial—“

“Yes. Gross. That. How did you learn about that?”

A distant fond look settled on Armie’s face. “Dated a girl who was taking a course on it. She talked about it a lot.”

Timmy felt a flash of jealousy. He told himself it was stupid, since _ he _was the one on a date with Armie. And they were fucking married, even though that wasn’t really real. But still...he didn’t like the idea of Armie with other people, especially when thinking about them gave him that look on his face. 

He cleared his throat and tried to push it down. “Please tell me all your strange trivial knowledge doesn’t come from people you’ve fucked.”

Armie peered at him. “Actually, I didn’t sleep with her. And are you mad, all of a sudden?”

“No,” Timmy said, but he couldn’t keep the petulant tone out of his voice.

“You are. You’re jealous.” Armie grinned. “Of some girl I remember almost nothing about other than she wouldn’t stop talking about gravestones while we ate pizza.”

“I’m…” Timmy saw the absurdity of it and the uncomfortable feeling slipped away, leaving only humor in its place. “Yeah, okay, that was stupid.”

“It’s fine. I kind of like that you’re jealous,” Armie said. “But you should also know that a lot of the ‘weird things’ I know come from _ you._”

“I...what?” Timmy paused mid-bite. 

“A lot of the time, you say things or mention things sort of offhand. And it makes me curious. So I...look into it. Research it, read about it.” Armie turned his attention to his ramen, so that Timmy could no longer see his expression. “People get annoyed with me because half of my sentences for the last four and a half years have started with ‘Timmy said’ or ‘I was talking to Timmy and…’ So anyway. If anyone should be jealous, it shouldn’t be you.”

“Oh.” Timmy didn’t know what to do with that information. He watched Armie a moment, and then dug into his own noodles. 

They ate in silence for a bit, until Timmy’s phone started buzzing in his pocket. He pulled it out and saw a text from Guillian. 

**G: T, you back? Ned’s in 30? I’ll grab the rest**

Timmy hesitated only a moment before tapping out a response. 

**Back but might be busy tonight**

“What’s up?” Armie asked, waving his chopsticks at the phone. 

“Oh, nothing.” Timmy placed the phone on the table. “Just G asking to go out tonight.”

“Do you want to go?” Armie asked. “It’s okay if you do.”

Timmy shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe. I won’t see them for a while when I go to South Dakota. But we’re…”

The phone buzzed again. 

**G: wrong answer**

Timmy rolled his eyes and replied. 

**I’m with Armie tonight. It’s our first night in the city**

The response was immediate. 

**G: bring him**

Armie reached across the table and tapped Timmy’s hand. “Seriously. If you want to see your friends—“

“Will you come?” Timmy asked. “I mean...I’d like to go, but I want you to come too. So if you don’t feel like it I can tell them I’ll go a different night.”

He meant it. He _ would _ like to see his friends. But he also didn’t want to ditch Armie on their first night in New York. Aside from that, it was true that he wouldn’t see his friends for a while once he left for filming, but it was also true he wouldn’t see Armie, so…

...his choice was easy. 

That is, unless Armie wanted some time off. He hadn’t seemed to need time apart, but maybe he was waiting for his opportunity. 

“Yeah?” Armie said. “I wouldn’t be the old guy dragging you down if I tagged along?”

“What?” Timmy laughed. “No. Come on, let’s go. For a little while. And if we get bored we can roll on home, the place isn’t far from my house.”

They finished dinner and headed to the bar. Armie took Timmy’s hand as they walked, and Timmy leaned in to him with a sigh of contentment. The guys were already there when they arrived, and Jake waved them over to a corner table. 

As they approached, the guys started humming the wedding march and waving their hands in the air as if conducting an orchestra. Assholes. 

Still, he was grinning when he reached the table. 

“Go ahead, make fun all you want,“ he said. 

“Who’s making fun?” Will asked. “We’re just recreating the moment since none of us were there to see you _ finally— _“

“Okay, okay,” Timmy interrupted. Will was the _ only _person he had ever told about how he felt about Armie. And he had told him everything, every step of the way. The last thing he needed was for Will to blurt it all out now. 

“Hey, guys,” Guillian said. “Have a seat. First round’s on us.”

They took the offered chairs, and within minutes, Timmy was glowing. These were the guys he’d known half his life, the ones who were there for him every step of the way. The ones he could always count on.

And now, they were embracing Armie, too. They’d always been cool with him, but seemed to hold back a bit. He was older, married, had kids, was already a big movie star. As Timmy watched Armie joking with G and Jake, telling one of his stories that had them doubled over laughing, he felt like there was nothing else in the world he’d ever want. 

He got up to grab another round of drinks, and when he got back to the table, Cody slung an arm around him and planted a wet kiss on his cheek. He left his arm around Timmy’s shoulders and massaged his arm lightly as they talked.

After a while, Cody got up to use the restroom. Timmy thought it over and decided he needed to do the same, but as soon as he rose from his chair, hands wrapped around his hips and yanked him back. He stumbled slightly and landed in Armie’s lap. Armie looped his arms around Timmy’s waist and growled a single word in his ear. 

“Mine.”

Timmy shivered at the possessive tone. He turned his head to catch Armie’s eye. He grinned at the determined glint he saw there. 

“Hang on, now _ you’re _jealous?” he murmured. “Of what? Cody?”

Armie just grunted. 

Timmy brought a hand up to pat Armie’s cheek. “Don’t worry,” he said. “It’s just Cody.”

“And it was just a girl whose name I don’t remember,” Armie said softly. “Who isn’t even here. Whereas that guy had his hands all over you.”

“He had his hand — singular — on my _ arm_,” Timmy said. “But...fair point. Anyway, I’m going home with you. Now, if you want. And you can put your hands anywhere you’d like...”

He pressed his lips against Armie’s, and Armie relaxed beneath him. 

“Get a room,” Jake said.

“Actually,” Armie said, “I think we’re going to head out.”

There was a chorus of boos, but the guys all stood up and offered handshakes and hugs to them both, and then they were on their way. 

When they reached the door to Timmy’s apartment, he unlocked it but then turned back to Armie without opening it. 

“Thanks for the date,” he said. “I had a nice time. You didn’t have to pay, though.”

“You can grab it next time,” Armie said. “I’ll be sure to pick a really expensive place.” He smiled. “So what do you think? You like me enough for a second date?”

Timmy giggled at the absurdity of the question, and then Armie was kissing him, pressing him up against the door and pushing his hands up into Timmy’s hair. 

They broke apart, and Timmy said, “You want to maybe come in for a nightcap?”

“Thought you’d never ask.” Armie reached behind him and opened the door, and they stumbled inside. 


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Timmy couldn’t believe his luck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s Thanksgiving here in the US, and right now I’m feeling thankful for this fandom, in particular the amazing writers and readers here.
> 
> Please know that even though I truly suck at responding to comments, I read and reread each and every one and so appreciate them all.
> 
> Enjoy this little chapter, and I’ll see you on the other side.
> 
> 100% fiction, of course.

Timmy couldn’t believe his luck. How many people in the world could say that, on a random Tuesday morning, they had Armie _ fucking _Hammer, naked, on his hands and knees in the middle of their bed?

No one. No one but him. Fuck, he was a lucky bastard. 

Armie was moaning, his mouth open and his eyes closed. He rocked back onto Timmy’s fingers, mumbling a curse every few seconds. 

_ God_, he was a beautiful sight. 

Timmy placed a hand on Armie’s hip and he stilled immediately, letting Timmy take control again. It was a heady feeling, knowing that Armie was responding to him without restraint, letting himself be completely vulnerable and open to whatever Timmy wanted. 

He loved this. He had _ missed _this. 

His fingers slipped in and out of Armie’s ass, probing and stretching, looking for just the right spot. The shuddery gasp from Armie told him he had found it. He pushed up against it and held. The low, guttural sound Armie made sent chills down Timmy’s spine. 

“Oh, fuck,” Armie said. “Fuck, I need—“

“Shhh,” Timmy said. He reached around and cupped the end of Armie’s cock, collecting the stream of pre-come that he had caused. He used it as lube to stroke up and down Armie’s length, and Armie whimpered. 

“Shit, I’m gonna come,” he said. “Timmy, if you don’t fuck me now…” His words morphed into another raw moan as Timmy applied more pressure. 

After another minute, Timmy took pity on Armie and removed his hands. Armie let out a protest. 

“No no no—“

Timmy flopped onto his back. He grabbed the lube, drizzled it onto his own cock, and began to stroke. Armie blinked down at him, his eyes unfocused.

“Ride me,” Timmy said.

“Huh?” 

“I want you to ride me,” Timmy said again. He grinned, and his body tensed in anticipation, as Armie was suddenly in motion, slinging a leg over Timmy’s stomach and putting himself in position. 

“Take it slow, okay?” Timmy said. He helped Armie line up, and then Armie was sinking onto his cock, and they both groaned. 

With a nudge of his hips, he encouraged Armie up, then pulled him back down. Armie braced his hands on the headboard and set up a steady, slow rhythm that had them both panting with need within minutes. 

Timmy could see Armie’s thighs trembling with effort, and he ran his hands up and down them, squeezing slightly.

“Doing okay?” he managed to ask, in between gasps. “Need to switch positions?”

“No, I’m — ah — I’m good.” Armie threw his head back and picked up the pace. “I can’t...I need…”

Timmy knew exactly what he needed, but he continued to run his hands along Armie’s thighs and groin, avoiding his bouncing cock.

“Are you close?” Armie asked. “_Please _ —”

He _ was _ close, but he wasn’t quite ready for this to be over yet. The sight of Armie riding him was mouth-watering...this giant, gorgeous man looming over him and working himself up and down, cursing and whimpering, was almost more than he could take.

“Almost,” Timmy said, arching his back as Armie clenched his muscles. “You?”

“”Fuck, yeah.”

“Go ahead,” Timmy said. “Come on, I want to see you—”

“I _ can’t_. You know I can’t...you have to touch me, remember?”

“I bet you could,” Timmy said. A practically panicked look swam across Armie’s features, and he took pity on the man. “But maybe not today.”

He finally wrapped his hand around Armie’s cock again, and Armie cried out, his hips jerking erratically. It took less than a minute for Armie to fall over the edge, and Timmy followed with a shout. Armie collapsed on top of him, bringing their mouths together with a long sigh.

When he pulled back, he smiled. His eyes were sleepy and dazed. “You have cum on your chin,” he said.

“And now so do you,” Timmy said. He surged up and kissed Armie again, and then rolled him onto his back. “Stay there.”

Timmy crossed the room to the bathroom and returned with a damp cloth. Armie let him clean them both up before grabbing the cloth, flinging it across the room, and hauling Timmy back into bed. Timmy gladly let himself be wrapped in a combination of Armie’s arms and the blankets.

“Good?” Timmy asked, even though he knew it had been.

“You’re amazing,” Armie murmured, his voice rumbling. “But you should also know that payback is going to be a bitch.”

Timmy’s eyes widened, and a thrill skittered down his spine along with Armie’s fingers. “Oh?”

“You’ve got an epic edging coming your way...when you least expect it.” Armie nuzzled into Timmy’s neck. “We should get up.”

“No.” Timmy wrapped his arms around Armie’s waist and hung on tight. “Let’s not get up today. Let’s just spend the day in bed.”

“I wish we could,” Armie said. “We can’t today.”

Timmy made an indistinct whining sound and held on tighter. Armie laughed. “Come on, we have dinner with your parents tonight. Are you willing to risk disappointing Momma?” 

“Yes,” Timmy mumbled. “She’ll get over it, she loves me.”

Armie lightly massaged Timmy’s neck and played with his hair as he talked. “And this morning we’ve got the fitting for TIFF. Think about it, all those designer clothes, hanging there on the rack, just waiting for you to choose which one will be lucky enough to be wrapped around your body this weekend.”

“Hmmm. Well..._maybe _ we could go to that. If we _ have _ to.” Timmy giggled as Armie tugged at his hair. 

“We’ve got a couple more days here before we go to Toronto,” Armie said. “One of those days we could just stay in bed.”

“Okay, one day in bed. At least. We wanted to go to the MoMA,” Timmy reminded him, stretching. “And see a show. And I have to do more prep for next week.”

“Yeah, and I’ve got that conference call with Evelyn about the press for this weekend. But I think we can fit it all in,” Armie said. He dropped a kiss on Timmy’s shoulder. “Also, I was thinking we could call a real estate agent while we’re in town.”

“A real estate agent? Why?” Timmy asked. 

“To start looking for a place. I’ve been thinking for a while of getting one here, so it seems like now is the time.” Armie fastened his teeth on Timmy’s earlobe and sucked gently.

Timmy pushed him off and sat up. “But you already have a place,” he said. 

“I do?”

Timmy rolled his eyes and gestured wildly around him. Armie was being deliberately obtuse, it seemed. 

“No, _ you _ have a place,” Armie said. “And it works for you, but it’s not going to work for _ us.” _

“Why not? What’s wrong with it?” Timmy frowned. He liked his place. He liked the location, he liked the building, he liked the neighborhood, his landlord was decent, it was a good price…

“It’s a shoebox,” Armie said. “I barely fit in here.”

“You fit just fine. The ceilings are high,” Timmy scoffed. “What more do you want?”

Armie rolled his eyes. Then he got out of bed and squeezed past the garment rack, making the hangers rattle.

“Exhibit A,” he said. 

“You can get up on the other side of the bed,” Timmy pointed out. 

“The fact that you have a garment rack — a _ full _ one — hanging around because your _ one _ closet is too small for you is Exhibit B. We need more closet space.”

“We can get another rack,” Timmy said. 

“And put it where?” 

“Next to that one. There’s plenty of room.”

Armie sighed. He crossed to the bathroom and opened the door, which wouldn’t open all the way because it hit the sink. 

“Exhibit C.”

“There is nothing wrong with that bathroom,” Timmy said. “Great water pressure.”

“Besides the fact that I can barely even get in it, it’s definitely not big enough for both of us. Also, there’s no bathtub.”

“You going to start taking baths, Hammer? This I’ve gotta see.” Timmy laughed. 

“Hey, I like baths as much as the next guy,” Armie said. “When I can fit in the bathtub. But there’s no bathtub, which we need for the kids. And that’s another thing, there is absolutely no room for the kids here.”

Timmy opened and closed his mouth. Armie maybe had a point there. But still...

“Well,” he reasoned, “they don’t live here. If they come to visit, we can always stay in a hotel.”

“I know it won’t be often that they’ll be with us in New York, but I want them to feel like they’ve got a space of their own wherever we have a home,” Armie said. “Anyway, we can talk more about it later. I’m going to grab a shower. If I’m not out in twenty minutes, bring in the jaws of life; you’ll find me wedged between the soap dish and the showerhead.”

Armie squeezed into the bathroom and shut the door. Timmy fell back against the pillows and stared up at the ceiling, feeling slightly sick and he wasn’t even sure why.

This was stupid. He was being stupid, wasn’t he? It was true, his place was small. Maybe too small for the both of them, and definitely too small for them and the kids. But it wasn’t like they were going to be here a ton. Their schedules were insane for the next year, and while Armie had said they could split their free time between LA and New York, the reality was that he needed to be in LA for the kids whenever possible. 

So, shouldn’t their space in New York be something _ Timmy _was comfortable with? Because what was probably going to happen was that when Timmy felt the need to be in New York, he’d be here alone. He tried to imagine himself being here, rattling around in some swanky condo Armie would pick out on the upper west side or something, nowhere close to his family and friends and favorite places. 

_ Nope. _

If Armie was with him that would be one thing, but if he was on his own he wanted...this. Otherwise he’d probably just spend all his time moping about being alone. Maybe if he just explained that to Armie, he’d understand. Show him that it made more financial sense to keep this place for now, until they had more time. Or until things...stabilized.

When Armie emerged from the bathroom in a cloud of steam, Timmy was ready to make his argument, and suggest they put off shopping for real estate for the year, then see where they were at.

But then Armie said, “Exhibit D, your bathroom fan is loud, and can’t handle airing that space, which means I spent the last fifteen minutes not being able to breathe. Also, there’s probably mold up there.”

The rational arguments fled, and Timmy said, “Oh, get over yourself. There’s no mold.”

“There might be.” Armie dropped his towel and reached into his open suitcase for his clothes. “Have you had it tested?”

“Have I had it...Armie. Come on. You’re being ridiculous.”

“No, I’m being practical,” Armie said. “When you’re a parent you start to think about things like mold. What about lead? Did you have to sign something disclosing that there was lead paint here?”

“For the love of...no. There’s no lead paint.” Timmy sat all the way up, the blankets pooling around his waist, and took a deep breath, trying to remember the arguments he had come up with while Armie was in the shower. “Listen, I think we’re getting ahead of ourselves. Like I was saying before, we’re barely going to be here this year.”

“But we will be here sometimes,” Armie said. “You live here.”

“Well...yes. Kind of.” Timmy ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the ends. “But my point is that this is fine for the limited time I’m — we’re — here. It’s basically glorified storage and a launching point to be out in the city. New Yorkers don’t even spend that much time in their apartments.”

“So why not have better storage and a better launching point, and a place you might actually want to spend time?” Armie shrugged into a shirt and began to button it. “I don’t understand why this is a problem.”

“It’s a problem because…” Timmy dropped his gaze to his hands and tried to vocalize the thing that was swirling around in his gut. “What if this doesn’t work out?”

“What if what doesn’t work out?”

“This.” Timmy waved a hand between them. “Us. I mean...we’re giving it a try, but we don’t know if, when the year is up…”

Armie paused in buttoning his pants. He looked thoughtful. After a minute, he said, quietly, “You’re right. We don’t know the future. But Tim...you can’t base decisions on the possibility that something is not going to work out.”

“What about the post-marital agreement?” Tim asked. “Isn’t that planning for it not to work out?”

“That’s completely different,” Armie said, yanking on his socks. “That was to protect you.”

“To protect me? I thought it was to protect _ us _ .” Timmy felt his chest tightening, the way he had when they had first begun discussing the agreement. He had signed it, but it felt... _ wrong _ to him.

“Yeah, it does protect us. But I’m not planning to need…” Armie sighed. “Let’s just say I was more interested in making sure you could get out without feeling stuck.”

Timmy turned that over in his head. What the hell was that supposed to mean? He wanted to stand up, so that Armie wasn’t looming over him, but since he was still naked, he thought that might make things worse.

“Okay, then let me ask you this,” he said. “How would it not make me feel stuck to be living in a place that you bought? If it doesn’t work out, then where am I supposed to go?”

Armie shook his head. “I don’t know, Tim. I figure, _ if _ it doesn’t work out, you can just keep the place.”

Timmy’s mouth dropped. “I can just _ keep _ the place? That you just bought. That’s going to be way too big and too much for just me and the amount of time I spend here.”

“Well...yes. I guess I just thought...look. I hear you that we’re not going to be here that often. But when we are, I’d like it to be in a place where I can walk without tripping over our shit and where I can cook a meal without banging my elbows on the wall. A better neighborhood would be nice, too. I’d like to have a place I actually want to _ be_, not just a place I put up with.” 

Timmy bristled at Armie’s tone, which had a finality to it. Like he had made the decision already, and he was trying to be all patient and explain it to Timmy. He also chafed at the way Armie was talking about his place, which he was kind of proud to have found and secured. Armie wouldn’t understand that, not being from New York. And he hated feeling like he should just shut up and agree or else he was risking Armie deciding this whole _ dating _ thing was more trouble than it was worth.

But most of all, he hated the implication in what Armie was saying, and what that meant for what he thought about Timmy.

“So basically,” Timmy said, folding his arms across his chest and wishing again that he had put on some clothes, “this place is good enough for _ me_, but not for you. You’re too good for this apartment.”

Armie paused as he laced up his shoes. “What?” he asked, blinking at Timmy in surprise.

“It’s what you’ve been saying this whole time. It’s not good enough for you, you want something better. Is that how you’re going to end up feeling about me, too? That I’m something you put up with?”

“That’s ridiculous,” Armie said, straightening up. “I never said that—”

“You did. You literally just did. You want a better place.”

“I want a better — a bigger _ place_. I never said anything about...” Armie turned and paced two strides to the counter separating the kitchen from the rest of the apartment, and then turned back. Timmy could see his jaw clenching and unclenching. “Okay, I think...I think I need to get out of here a while.”

“I need to shower,” Timmy said, frowning. Were they done talking? What had they decided? It didn’t feel like they were done. 

“I meant by myself.” Armie headed for the door, and Timmy’s stomach dropped.

“Are you coming back?” Timmy asked, hating the way his voice was shaking. 

Armie paused with his hand on the knob. Timmy waited for him to turn around, to cross the space between them, to take Timmy’s face in his hands and kiss him and tell him everything would be all right. He didn’t. “I’ll see you at the fitting. I’ll text you the address,” he said, without looking back. And then he was gone, slamming the door behind him.

_ This is stupid, stop him_, said one voice in Timmy’s head. _ Let him go, it’s just going to get worse_, said another.

Timmy sat there, staring at the closed door, feeling like he couldn’t breathe, for the next twenty minutes. He should have just agreed. He was being selfish, insisting on keeping them in this stupid, tiny studio apartment. He didn’t even know why he had resisted so hard. Because he liked the apartment? He’d been there three months, he wasn’t _ that _ attached. Because he liked the area? He could steer Armie towards a location they’d both be happy with. Because he wasn’t sure what was going to happen in a year? Well, killing this thing now certainly cleared up that uncertainty.

Bottom line, he had fucked it up. He knew he was destined to, _ knew _it was too good to be true, so it was probably better that he did it now, before he got in too deep.

As he numbly moved through his morning routine, he thought about how even that idea was laughable, since he was _ already _ in too deep. Even after just a week of being together, Timmy had trouble imagining _ not _ having Armie at his side. And how was he going to deal with the next year, with having to pretend that they were really madly in love, when they couldn’t even get a relationship off the ground without it crashing and burning? 

Once he was ready to leave, he checked his phone, thinking that maybe Armie might have sent him an apology, or a reassurance, or something. But there was only a single text from him, with the address and time of the fitting, nothing else.

Timmy stopped for coffee and a bagel on his way uptown, but he ditched the bagel immediately, deciding he wasn’t hungry for breakfast after all. As he rode the subway, his cap pulled low over his eyes, he tried pushing aside his swirling emotions and thinking logically. Unless Armie was going to decide they shouldn’t fake the marriage for a year after all, they’d still need a solution. He could offer a compromise. Armie could buy a place, and he’d just keep his. When they were there together, they’d stay at Armie’s. When he was here alone, he’d have his own place to fall back on. Then, at the end of it, when they went their separate ways, he’d still have a good apartment.

By the time he arrived at the studio for the fitting, he was feeling calmer. He figured that he really wasn’t in any worse situation than he had been in when they had first woken up married. Now, he knew what it would have been like if they were together for real, but...they could go back. They’d done it once before. Just because they weren’t going to be _ together _ didn’t mean they couldn’t be friends.

At least, he hoped that was the case, because if it wasn’t...he didn’t want to think about that.

He hesitated outside the door to the studio, taking a few deep breaths. They were in public, which meant they were madly in love newlyweds. He put on a smile, told himself it was just an acting job like anything else, and pushed open the door. 

Armie was leaning against a wall, coffee cup in hand and charming smile on his face, laughing at something Ilaria was saying. When Timmy entered, he looked up. 

Timmy felt his smile wavering, and he put renewed effort into keeping it in place. He waved. 

“Hey guys,” he said, “Sorry I’m a little late. Did you start without me?”

“Nope,” said Ilaria. “Armie just got here too. He said you had an errand to run?”

“Oh. Yeah. All set,” Timmy lied. Obviously they needed a reason to be showing up separately — other than _ we were having an argument and breaking up _ — so that was quick thinking on Armie’s part. 

Timmy crossed the space towards them, and when he reached Armie’s side, Armie cupped a hand under his chin and lightly kissed him. 

“Hey,” he said, smiling softly. “I missed you.”

He was good at this, Timmy thought. He could feel a blush heating his cheeks even though he knew Armie was acting. That was how convincing his little smile and the gentleness of his touch was. Then again, Timmy always knew he was a good actor, because he had certainly made Timmy feel loved while they were filming the movie. 

Pretending for the year was going to kill him. 

“You too,” Timmy managed to reply. He realized that at some point he had grabbed onto Armie’s shirt, and he released it, smoothing out the wrinkles with a sweaty palm. 

“Oh, god, you two are the cutest,” Ilaria said, clapping her hands. “Come on, we’ve got work to do. Timmy, I’ve already got Armie’s look determined, but for you, it’s a blank slate. I know you like to style yourself, so I’ll just let you decide what you want and then I can adjust Armie’s look accordingly. I called in a few favors, so I hope you’ll be pleased with what’s in there.”

She hustled them into the back room and pointed Timmy toward the rack with his potential looks. He began to flip through them as Ilaria gave Armie some instructions. Then she left them alone. 

As soon as the door shut, the silence seemed to fill in all the space, closing in around Timmy and suffocating him. He continued to pore through the clothes, not really seeing them. Was Armie looking at him? Ignoring him?

After a minute, Armie spoke from right behind him. “Tim,” he said. 

Timmy stilled. He licked his lips. “Yeah?”

“I wasn’t sure if you’d come. I didn’t...look, I shouldn’t have left. I’m sorry. That was a dick move.” 

He sounded...unhappy. Timmy turned around slowly, lifting his eyes to Armie’s face. The charming smile was gone, and in its place was distress. 

“You were done,” Timmy said. “It was understandable that you wanted to leave.”

“No, I wasn’t done. We weren’t done. I’m just...it was habit. A bad one, and I am sorry.” He sighed. “I also wasn’t listening. For some reason, the idea of us buying a place here really bothers you, and instead of finding out why, or accepting it, I just kept talking.”

Timmy stared at Armie. This wasn’t what he had expected at all. “It’s fine,” he said. “You can buy a place. You wanted to anyway. You don’t need my permission.”

“Maybe not, but I would like your input,” Armie said. “We’re a team, and this is the kind of thing we need to work out together.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Timmy said. He swallowed. “I already figured it out. I’ll just keep my place. I can sublet it month to month or something, and that way when the year is up I have a place to go, and you’ll have the place you wanted.”

After a long beat, Armie asked, “Unless it does work out, right? And we stay together?”

_ What? _

“But it already didn’t,” Timmy said.

Armie took a step back, looking like Timmy had just slapped him. “Wait a second. Do you think we broke up?”

“I…” Timmy shrugged. “I don’t know. You said—“

“No,” Armie said. “Absolutely not. We had a stupid argument, that’s all. I didn’t say anything about wanting this to be over.” He searched Timmy’s face. “Do you want it to be over? Because I suggested a bigger apartment? Or because I wasn’t listening to you?”

Timmy just shook his head, afraid to speak. Tears pricked at his eyes and his throat was clogged. 

Armie closed the distance between them once more and wrapped his arms around Timmy. “Okay,” he said. “Okay, it’s fine. We’re fine.”

A small sob escaped as Timmy turned his face into Armie’s shirt and hugged Armie back. They stood there for long minutes, Armie whispering nonsense in Timmy’s ear and Timmy feeling grateful to be back in Armie’s embrace. 

Finally, Timmy lifted his head. “So we’re still…”

“Yes, we’re still,” Armie said. “Shit, if I had known_ that _ was what you were thinking, I would have come right back. I wouldn’t have left. I didn’t know you’d jump there so fast.”

“I just thought...since I made a stink about the apartment, you had had enough. That was why you walked out.”

“No, I walked out because it’s a defense mechanism. When an argument is escalating, I’ve learned to leave it rather than let it spiral. That comes from years of arguing with Liz, and having arguments that never got resolved even when we did have it out.” He rubbed his hands up and down Timmy’s back. “I was also a little thrown by what you said at the end and needed to...process it.”

“What did I say?” Timmy asked. He wiped at his eyes with the heel of his hand. 

“You said that you thought I was putting up with you. That I thought I was too good for your apartment, and maybe for you. And I don’t...I still don’t know how to take that.” He smoothed back Timmy’s hair from his forehead and sighed. “That’s not even close to how I feel. And the fact that you would think that of me, that I would be that way, thinking I was better than someone or something, is...I didn’t know you saw me that way, I guess.” He looked away as he was talking, and his Adam’s apple bobbed rapidly. 

“I don’t,” Timmy said. “I don’t really think that. That wasn’t about you, it was more about me.” And that was the truth, Timmy realized.

Armie stepped back and took Timmy’s hands, leading him to a bench along the wall. They sat, and Armie said, “Explain what you mean.”

Timmy fidgeted, but was determined to do just that, now that he had a chance. “I sometimes can’t believe that you...that we’re even friends. That you’d be attracted to me. And now that we’re trying a relationship, I kept thinking that _ this _ is when you’re going to realize I’m not...I’m not good enough.”

Armie chuckled. “Jesus, Timmy. That’s the stupidest thing you’ve said all day. And earlier, you suggested that high ceilings and water pressure made up for having a four-hundred square foot studio.”

Timmy let out a surprised giggle. “Don’t knock great water pressure until you’ve lived in a place without it,” he said. 

“If I promise that any place we buy will have great water pressure, will you at least look at some stuff with me?” Armie got suddenly serious. “You tell me this is a non-starter and I’ll drop it, okay? You were right, our schedules are insane through the spring, and we won’t be here all that much. So maybe we wait until next summer to buy. But I’d at least like to look a little. See what we might be able to get. We can start in the East Village, even.”

“Yeah, okay,” Timmy said. “And really, it’s fine if you want to buy something now. I kind of overreacted, and I don’t even know why.”

“It was maybe too fast. Too much all at once,” Armie said. “Not an overreaction at all. I was insensitive and just barreling past your objections.”

“We can look at places,” Timmy said. “And if you find something you like—“

“_We _ like,” Armie corrected him. 

“—and want to buy it, I can just sublet my place, like I said before.”

Armie hesitated, and then nodded. “Yeah, I guess you could,” he said. Then he smiled. “Are we done arguing now? Because it has taken every ounce of self control I have to keep from kissing you silly since the second you walked through the door. I meant it when I said I missed you.”

“I...yes. We’re done,” Timmy said, grinning as relief and gratitude coursed through him. “You can kiss me. Do it now.”

“Promise me something first,” Armie said. “Never assume we’re breaking up. If it’s going to happen, we’re going to say it to each other’s faces. And it’s going to take more than a single argument to do it, I hope.”

“I promise,” Timmy said. 

Armie leaned in. He paused a moment, just before their lips touched, and Timmy felt the electricity crackling between them. Unable to keep his cool, still riding the wave of elation that Armie wasn’t walking away from them, Timmy launched forward and closed the distance himself. Next thing he knew he had climbed into Armie’s lap and his hands were in Armie’s hair. Armie had him securely at the waist, and he felt solid for the first time since Armie had mentioned apartment hunting in the first place. 

There was a knock on the door. “Boys? Anything for me to see yet?” Iilaria called. 

Armie snickered against Timmy’s mouth, and then he lifted his head. “Not yet. You’ll have to give us another minute.”

Timmy looped his arms around Armie’s neck and kissed him on the cheek. “The clothes are calling,” he said. “I can hear them. I shouldn’t...leave them hanging.”

“Leave them _ hanging_,” Armie repeated with a laugh. He smacked Timmy on the ass and then deposited him on his feet. “Okay, let’s figure out what we’re wearing for our first public appearance as newlyweds.”

Armie stood and kissed the top of Timmy’s head, then moved to his own rack to start trying on his suit with various shirts and accessories. 

As Timmy rifled through pieces from his favorite designers, he grinned helplessly. They weren’t over. They were fine. Armie wasn’t going anywhere, despite the fact that Timmy was a basket case about relationships. 

Yes, he was definitely the luckiest asshole in the world.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When they emerged from the subway later that evening, Armie took Timmy’s hand and they strolled towards Timmy’s parents’ place, the morning’s argument all but forgotten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, it’s been a minute.
> 
> I got stuck on this chapter. It unstuck as I was trying to unstick something else, and so I’m thrilled to at least be able to give you this.
> 
> Thank you for being so patient (those of you who haven’t totally given up on me). ❤️
> 
> 100% fiction, of course.

When they emerged from the subway later that evening, Armie took Timmy’s hand and they strolled towards Timmy’s parents’ place, the morning’s argument all but forgotten. 

The fitting had ended up being fun. Timmy had selected a Thom Browne ensemble to wear on Saturday that complimented Armie’s Etro suit perfectly, and had already contacted Cartier for some accessories. He was getting excited — and a little nervous — about their first public appearance as a couple. A _ married _ couple. He wondered how people would react. Would his presence on the carpet with Armie take focus away from Armie’s movie? Would all of the questions be about their relationship? Would people ask how long they’d been together?

He shook his head slightly and put the question out of his mind as they took the elevator up to his parents’ floor. They could talk about it later. For now, they had other things to worry about. Like continuing to essentially lie to his parents, making it seem like this marriage was real and not just a huge accident that they were making the best of. 

As the elevator rose, Armie blew out a slow breath, and Timmy glanced in his direction. 

“What’s wrong with you?” he asked. 

Armie adjusted his grip on the flowers he was holding and shrugged. “Nothing. I’m a little nervous,” he admitted, glancing at his feet. 

“Nervous? Why? My parents love you.” Timmy couldn’t help but smile at the thought that Armie was actually feeling nervous. It was _ cute_. 

“Yeah, but that was when they only knew me as the guy who crawled all over their son in a movie,” Armie said. “Now they have to know me as the guy who crawls all over their son in real life.”

Timmy let out a laugh. “Okay, you have a point. But they know someone’s got to take on the job, and at least they genuinely _ like _ you. My mom’s probably relieved it’s you so she can stop stressing about who it might be.” 

“I feel bad that you’re having to lie to them about what’s really going on with us,” Armie said, echoing Timmy’s thoughts from earlier. “And then there’s the fact that you’re twenty-four, with your whole life just starting, and because of me you’re saddled with a divorced father of two. I bet they’re worried about that.”

“They’re not,” Timmy said, shaking his head. “And if they were, I’d tell them not to be, because I’m not.”

“I would be.” Armie rubbed his free hand over his face. “If it were Hops or Ford. I’m nine years older than you. If it were my kid I’d be worried that they’d be held back, or—“

Timmy slapped a hand over Armie’s mouth. Armie blinked at him in surprise. 

“Stop,” Timmy said. “I thought I was the one with runaway anxiety.”

He pulled his hand away and replaced it with his mouth, kissing Armie firmly. When he pulled away, Armie’s eyes were a soft blue, and he looked calm. 

“Whatever they are and aren’t worried about, they really do love you. And I’m not going to have you worried about that stuff either, because _ none _ of it is important to me. That you’re older, or divorced, or...have kids.” Timmy laid a hand on Armie’s cheek and smiled when Armie leaned into it. “Okay?”

Armie nodded. His Adam’s Apple bobbed once, twice. Then he spoke, his voice deep and gruff. 

“Okay.” He took Timmy’s chin in his hand and pulled him close for another kiss just as the elevator doors opened. 

Timmy took Armie’s hand again and tugged him out of the elevator and down the hall. He believed everything he had said to Armie, and was suddenly excited to get inside, see his parents, and show Armie that he was right. He had been a little nervous himself, before, but now that he had addressed Armie’s concerns, he felt better about his own.

He knocked on the door, and after a few moments, it swung wide. 

“Baby.” Mama wasted no time in yanking him down to her level and wrapping him in a tight hug. “So good to see you,” she said, her cheek pressed against his.”

“Hi, Mama,” Timmy murmured. It was always such a relief to be hugged by his mother. Even though he now towered over her, it made him feel safe.

She released him and turned to Armie. “You come here,” she said. She reached up and dragged him down for a firm hug as well, kissing his cheek. Then she stepped back and smacked his shoulder hard, the sharp _thwap_ taking them both by surprise.

”I’m mad at you a bit, Armie,” she said, shaking her finger at him. Timmy would have been concerned, but he could see the sparkle in her eye that she was trying to hide with a pinched frown. “We didn’t even get a chance to walk our boy down the aisle.”

“I’m sorry,” Armie said, looking guilty, and suddenly very, very young. “You’re right, we should have waited. It’s my fault, I—“

“I don’t know. I think it’s romantic,” Papa said as he came around the corner, his lips curving into a wry smile. “Let them in, it's time for a drink.”

“Hi Marc,” Armie said, sticking his hand out. 

Papa ignored his hand and enveloped him in a hug. “Welcome home,” he said. “So glad you both could make it.”

Timmy accepted a hug from his father as well, and Papa led them into the living room, where Mama began mixing drinks. 

“Timmy said that you suddenly realized, while you were out in Las Vegas, how you felt about each other, and then got carried away,” Mama said, handing Armie his drink. 

Armie glanced at Timmy, who nodded. “Yeah, that’s about right,” he said. “I know this is sudden, but we just decided not to waste any more time when we were...sure about each other.”

The flip in Timmy’s stomach at hearing Armie say things like that was probably never going to go away. Even though it was an act, or at the very least an exaggeration, he liked hearing it. He also liked that Armie took his hand and held it in his lap. 

“See?” Papa said. “Romantic. Here’s to the impulsivity of love.” He raised his glass. 

Mama smiled and raised an eyebrow as she sat in the overstuffed yellow armchair to their right. “What I want to know is...exactly how drunk _ were _ you?”

Armie coughed, sputtering into his drink, and Timmy giggled. 

Papa asked about the kids then, and the conversation relaxed into an easy rhythm. It was clear Armie loved talking about Harper and Ford in general, and seemed to especially love embarrassing Timmy with stories of his new step-parent foibles. 

“It’ll be second nature in no time,” Mama said. “Those kids love you both, and they’ll respond to the way you treat each other.”

Timmy glanced at Armie, and the look of wonder on his face struck something in Timmy’s chest. He knew that Armie wasn’t used to being in an environment where his choices and actions were supported — whether from his family, or from his ex-wife, or from his publicity team. To have Mama clear up one of Armie’s worries — that the Chalamets would be disapproving of Armie marrying Timmy because he had kids already — with one simple statement...it must have been such a relief. 

Timmy shifted closer, pressing his shoulder against Armie’s arm. “Told you so,” he muttered. 

Armie glanced down at him and smiled. 

They moved to the dining room and Papa served up a pot roast while Mama poured the wine. When they had settled in to eat, Mama brought the subject back around to the wedding. 

“Since we weren’t able to be there,” Mama said, easing an eyebrow, “tell us about it. Who proposed? What did you wear?”

“It wasn’t really…” Timmy pushed a potato onto his fork and searched for a way to answer, since those questions were still a lot fuzzy in his mind, and Armie’s too. He could say _ he _ had proposed, or that Armie had, but either choice seemed fraught with peril. If he said he did it, would Armie think he had pushed them into this situation? If he said Armie had, would Armie think Timmy was wishing for that? He cleared his throat. “I mean, no one proposed, not really. It was more—“

“It was spontaneous,” Armie said, jumping in and giving Timmy’s hand a squeeze. “There wasn’t anything formal, because there didn’t need to be. We were out dancing, and then we were out on the strip, and…” He shot a quick glance at Timmy. “The subject came up, and Timmy sort of suggested we go ahead and do it. But if he hadn’t, I would have. And it just...felt right. So we got a cab to get the paperwork done and went to a chapel.”

Timmy blinked at Armie. He sounded sure, as if he hadn’t just made all that up on the spot. Was it true? Had _ Timmy _ been the one to bring up getting married? Would he have had the guts to do that? He searched his memory hard, and suddenly had a glimpse of the Bellagio fountains and that...weird light-up coin from the drinks. It spun through the air and—

“We have photos,” Armie said, interrupting Timmy’s thoughts and breaking the shaky link he may have found to a memory. It evaporated into the air like whips of smoke. “Or we will. There’s a couple of weeks processing since we sprang for a package with a real photographer. We’ll send them around as soon as they’re ready.”

“Hmm.” Mama took a sip of her drink. “How would you feel about having a reception?”

“What? Like...a real one?” Timmy asked, trying to re-focus. 

“Yes, a real one,” Mama laughed. “We were talking, and since this happened so suddenly, no one had a chance to wish you well. We’d like to arrange a reception for you.” She gave Timmy a pointed look. “I’m frankly a touch surprised this diva didn’t demand you wait for a giant party in his honor.”

“Hey!” Timmy scowled at the dig, but Armie patted his knee. 

“I was a little surprised, too,” he said. “But a reception could be a great idea. Can we talk it over and get back to you?”

“Of course,” Papa said. “And it doesn’t have to be large if you don’t want it to be.”

“We’ll let you know,” Armie said. “It might have to wait a while, because our schedules are packed for the foreseeable future.”

And if they weren’t really married, Timmy thought, it made sense to skip a reception until — or _ if _ — such a time came that they wanted to _ be _ married, for real.

“That raises another question,” Mama said. “What are your plans? Will you be out in L.A. permanently, now?”

Timmy felt a pang in his stomach as he flashed back to their fight from earlier, but he brushed it aside. “We were just talking about that today,” he said. “It’s looking like we’ll have a base here, too. I’m not really ready to leave New York for good, and Armie is interested in doing more theater, but I’ll need to be in L.A. a fair bit and he needs to maintain a place there for the kids.”

The look Armie gave him then sent warm tingles in his belly. _ Thank you, and I’m still sorry for earlier_, it said. It was Timmy’s turn to lay his hand on Armie’s knee. 

“Are you planning to bring the children out here at all?” Papa asked. “Timmy’s place is…”

“It’s too small, yes, we already covered this,” Timmy said, rolling his eyes and ignoring Armie’s amused look. “We’re going to start looking for a bigger place this week.”

Armie grinned at Timmy and winked. 

“I can help with that,” Mama said. “Let me make a few calls. You want three bedrooms?”

“That sounds right,” Armie said. “Or four. I’m not so concerned about the kids having their own rooms right now, since we won’t be here with them much, but it would be nice to have a little space to grow into.”

“What neighborhood?” she asked. 

Armie looked at Timmy. “This area could work,” he said. “Or the Village, since I know Timmy would be most comfortable there.”

Timmy smiled. It wasn’t what he’d expected, but the last vestiges of anxiety from their fight seeped away at Armie’s gesture. He took Armie’s hand under the table and squeezed, and Armie’s smile softened. 

Mama pursed her lips and squinted at them. “The West Village, I could see,” she said. “I’ll take a look and see if I can set something up.”

“We leave for Toronto on Friday morning,” Timmy said. “So maybe Thursday we could see some places.”

They talked a little more about what they were looking for, and Timmy was surprised to find he was in total agreement with Armie’s suggestions. Maybe there wouldn’t end up being much of a compromise after all. 

After dinner, Mama asked Armie to help her with a couple of things — “It’ll be nice to have someone so tall around” — and Papa dragged Timmy into the kitchen to help clean up dinner and prepare dessert. As they rinsed the dishes, Papa glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. 

“Are you happy?” he asked, handing Timmy a towel to dry off the cookware. 

“I’m...yeah,” Timmy said. “I almost can’t believe how happy I am.” This he didn’t have to lie about, because it was the truth. He’d stumbled into this circumstance, and maybe it wouldn’t last, but to actually have a real chance with Armie, after so many years of longing and assuming it would never be...yes. He was happy. 

“That’s all that matters,” Papa said. “I know your mother is worried that it was such a sudden decision for you both, but...it wasn’t so sudden, was it?”

Timmy set down a clean ladle and picked up a wine glass. He took a moment to dry off the stem, being sure not to leave anything to spot, and giving himself time to think. He wasn’t sure how much his father already knew, or suspected, about his relationship with Armie. Finally, he sighed. 

“It was sudden in that we’d never talked about — about getting married before. And before that weekend, we weren’t...together like that.” He took a breath, aware of what he was choosing to reveal. “Hadn’t been for a while, and even when we were...it wasn’t like talking about the future was ever a real option, because he wasn’t — I mean, he wasn’t — free.” He cleared his throat and glanced over at Papa, who smiled. 

“But you've always known what you had was special.”

“Yeah. From day one,” Timmy said. “Even if we just stayed best friends for life, I’ve always known he was important. The _ most _ important.”

“Then your path might not be a standard straight line with all the same sights and stops along the way as the majority of the population, but that doesn’t make it less right.” Papa wiped his hands on a towel and then clapped Timmy in the back. “And I, for one, am glad you found it, and took it.”

“Thanks,” Timmy said. On impulse, he flung the dish towel aside and wrapped his father in a hug. Everything settled down inside, and he felt real, solid hope. Hope that things could work out, hope that they might actually stay together, hope that he could be happy. 

Papa served slices of pie onto plates and sent Timmy to put them on the table while he made a quick syrup to serve with the ice cream. 

“Go save Armie from your mother once those are on the table,” Papa said. “She’s likely to try to get him to do all of her small annoying tasks in one night otherwise.”

Timmy set the plates down and went in search of his mother and his husband. He heard voices coming from his mother’s study, and turned that way to find out what Mama was doing to torture Armie. 

“Listen to me,” Mama was saying, her voice low and fierce. 

Timmy paused just outside the door, stopped by the tone of his mother’s voice. He stepped back, so that he could barely see the two figures inside. His mother stood next to the window, Armie at her side.

“Don’t hurt him, okay?” she continued. “I’m not stupid, I know this wasn’t planned, and you may have gotten stuck in a situation you haven’t yet found a way out of. Whatever you intend here just...don’t hurt him. I like you, and I want to continue to like you, Armie, and —”

“Mama, I promise. I have no intention of hurting Timmy. He’s...I…” Armie dropped his gaze to the floor and wiped a hand across his mouth and chin. “Sorry. I just…”

Mama’s expression changed in an instant, softened. She reached out and pulled Armie down into a hug, and he went easily, as if she was the bigger one and he was a small boy.

“Oh, honey,” she said. “I see it now. Maybe I should be telling _ him _ not to hurt _ you_, hmmm?”

“Where is everyone?” Papa called out from the dining room. 

Timmy backed up another step, not wanting them to know he’d overheard. Then he reversed direction and stuck his head around the doorway, where Armie was looking sheepish and Mama was patting his arm. 

“Dessert,” he said. “What is she making you do?”

“Oh, just taking things down from high shelves, changing lightbulbs, the usual,” Armie said. He coughed. “I’m happy to do it.”

Timmy led the way back into the dining room, wondering what he’d just witnessed. But then Armie grabbed his hand, pulled him close, and kissed him firmly. As he melted towards Armie, all thoughts flew from his head except one:

_ I love you. _

That thought propelled him into the dining room, where he made Armie sit between his parents for a photo. He uploaded it to Instagram before sliding into his chair and letting Armie feed him a spoonful of ice cream. 

**tchalamet: First dinner with the family as my “husband.” Good thing they like him already. 🍧🍾 @armiehammer** ****

**Author's Note:**

> I’m onlyastoryteller on Tumblr if you need to yell at me.


End file.
